


The Night All Angels Cry

by silverneko9lives0



Series: Clay [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Azog the Dog, Christianity, Coming Out, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, New York City, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roman Catholicism, Sexual Content, Stalking, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 46,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2114238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Burning Heaven. </p><p>Thorin comes out to the rest of his family, Bilbo’s got a new stalker, Smaug is set on ruining the Durin family…</p><p>On top of that, they are trying to prepare for the move to Albany, help Thorin prepare for the shift from being a priest to a psychiatrist, and help Nori and Bofur plan their wedding. </p><p>Nothing could possibly go wrong...</p><p>Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Previously_ **

_My phone rings, jolting me out of the peace and quiet in the apartment. I answer. “Hello? Who is this?”_

_Click_ _._

_Shit. Fuck this._

_…_

_I squeeze Thorin’s hand, leaning against him and laying my head on his shoulder. “And thank _you_  for coming. I appreciate it…”_

_He’s still wearing his priest…stuff…Shit. I pull away, making sure I’m right. Collar’s still there. Yep. How many had…oh fuck!_

_“No one cares,” Fili said. “Except idiots like the Bishop. He found out cuz this jerk was talking to him when we waited for Thorin to finish up with confession.”_

_I turn to Thorin. “Smaug,” he clarifies._

_“I’m sorry…” I whisper._

_“I told them I was leaving the clergy anyway before coming to get you. He’ll have the letter on his desk tomorrow, though it speeds things up…”_

_“I am _so_  sorry. Where…do you…”_

_“I’ll worry about it later,” he said. “Right now, I’m more worried about you.” He takes my hand back in his. “Do you know…”_

_I shook my head. “We don’t know yet.”_

_“Can Bilbo stay with us tonight too?” Kili asked. We looked at him. “We told Uncle Thorin to just come home with us tonight. We’ve plenty of room at the house: Great-Grandpa and Grandma have the master bedroom, then there’s Frerin’s room, and Mom and Dad have the next biggest room, then there’s our rooms, and we have three guest rooms and…”_

_I stare at Thorin, who shakes his head. I know his family is full of Italian bankers, but _this_  is ridiculous!_

_“It’s up to you, though,” Fili says. Kili fixes me with his best puppy eyes and they grin. “Please?” they chorus. I look at Thorin again and he shrugs._

_“You’re welcome to,” he said. “Though I warn you my parents and grandparents…”_

_“I can guess,” I say. “It won’t be the worst thing that happens to me today, and you’re siblings are tolerable, at least.” I inhale and exhale._

_I don’t know what’s going on with my life right now. I don’t know what the hell just happened. My boyfriend’s a soon-to-be-ex-priest. His family is, most likely, billionaires, and I have someone unwanted after me again. But, when Thorin holds my hand, I feel nothing but peace…Real peace even though I should be filled with nothing but uncertainty._

_“Okay,” I say. “I’ll stay the night.”_

#

I adjust my backpack and stare at the townhouse in front of me.

The only warning I get is that four generations live in one house, which has eleven bedrooms—three of which are shared, four only have one occupant—one is Thorin’s room, which is usually untouched, two bedrooms were made into offices for Thrain and Thror, and two guest rooms.

They also have eleven full bathrooms. What the fuck? Who needs that many bathrooms? Okay, when you’ve nine people living in one place, I can see the need for a bathroom for each room…I guess. I live with two others and we only have one. I’ve never needed to worry about not having more than that, but then again, on my laziest days, I don’t shower till noon.

Fili mentions that the entire place is shy of seven million dollars in cost.

_Seven fucking million!!_

I turn to Thorin and he shrugs.

“Oh sure,” I said. “Seven million for a townhouse—”

“With eleven bedrooms and bathrooms,” he said, pushing me toward the door. “That’s not as bad as you make it out to be.”

“Still a lot.”

“And everyone in my family is either a banker or an accountant except for me,” he reminds me. “We’re reasonably wealthy. Or at least we were until…” I can nearly hear his teeth grinding.

“Smaug?” I ask.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Oh yeah.”

Kili and Fili drag me to the door, telling me about Azog and what to expect from a Volpino Italiano kind of dog. All I’m getting is that they’re tiny little buggers and very fluffy with a curly tail and pointed ears and the one I’m about to meet is white. Sounds cute, but my history with small cute dogs borders on hatred.

Thorin pats my shoulder. “I hate that dog,” he whispered. “I don’t get what my mom sees in that mutt.”

“What would she say if she heard you?”

“To mind my own business and to leave the dog alone,” he said. I smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek just before we enter. Fili announced our return while Thorin closed the door. A tiny monster that more yips than barks jumped up at him, fluffy tail wagging madly.

“Azog down,” Fili said. Kili picked him up and the dog twisted around to lick his cheek. There’s shouting in what sounds like Italian from another room. Fili responds back in Italian. Only thing I understood was “Thorin.”

“That’s our great-grandma,” Kili whispered as he set the dog down.

Azog came over to me and sniffed my leg as we walked up the stairs to the living room. White walls, wooden flooring, granite or wood staircases leading to different parts of the house, navy blue and tan leather couches created two semi circles around a glass coffee table. With a vase of fake tulips and fake glass gems stood in the center of the table around different magazines.

We went to sit on the blue couch and the dog stared at me. He had bright blue eyes. I get the feeling he’s still developing an opinion of me. Thorin’s grandmother shouted for him from what I guess is the kitchen. Thorin sighed and stood up.

“I’ll be right back,” Thorin said, patting my shoulder before speaking in rapid Italian as he entered another room which I guess is the kitchen. Kili picks up Azog and sits next to me.

“Do you want to pet him?” he asks.

I stare at the dog. He’s not attacked me yet. What could go wrong? I hold my hand out to Azog and he sniffs my hand before he bares his teeth at me and growled. “Guess not,” I said, pulling away.

“I guess you smell a little bit like Thorin,” Kili said. “Azog doesn’t like him.” Gee, I wonder why. It might be prudent to put some distance between me and Azog, so I stand and move to one of the recliner chairs. “Are you scared of dogs?”

“No,” I say. “My experience is that bigger dogs are nicer than smaller ones. Same as cats.”

“Cats aren’t nice at all,” Kili said. “Fili got scratched really bad once and had to go to the hospital because it got infected.”

“Was the cat a stray?”

“Yes.”

“That would be why,” I said. “True, some cats are mean, but most aren’t that bad.” Thorin returned with a little old woman on his arm. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun. I stand.

“Bilbo, this is my grandmother, Inez.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, trying not to shuffle my feet, and held my hand out to her. I wasn’t expecting her to pull me into a hug and kiss my cheeks. Knowing a custom greeting is different from actually experiencing it. Again, Thorin just shrugs.

“And it is very nice to meet you. Fili and Kili talk about you all the time. All good things, don’t worry. Thorin explained the situation and you are most welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

“He did, did he?” I ask, glaring at him.

Inez patted my chest. “Don’t worry. Both of my grandsons had many a girl chasing after them and going to desperate measures for the sake of it.” That’s new. Thorin doesn’t meet my eyes at this new piece of information. Inez locks her arm around mine and leads me up a flight of stairs to where the guest rooms are, assuring me that while here I’ll be experiencing true Italian hospitality.

I wonder if she’d still think the same if she knew I was banging Thorin?

Probably not, but I thank her for the room. The white walls have black and white still life photos. The bed is covered in green sheets and a white and green duvet. I check the bathroom. There’s a bottle of unused liquid hand soap by the sink and an empty tooth brush holder. The floor was covered in a light blue bathroom carpet.

 _I forgot my bag downstairs_ , I thought, heading to the bedroom door. I jump seeing Thorin.

“Sorry,” he said, handing me the bag. “My room’s over there,” he pointed at another door. “So I thought I’d bring this up for you.” He handed me the bag a. I take the bag, fighting down the blush on my cheeks, and put it on the bed.

“You’re grandmother’s nice,” I say.

“Oh yeah, she’s very nice. She balances my grandfather wonderfully.” I let him step in and closed the door. “But she’s hardcore Catholic and very upset I left the clergy.”

“Well you didn’t really leave…”

“It’s close enough.”

“True. Look, you don’t have to tell them we’re together yet. One ridiculously giant life changing piece of news at a time,” I said. “They’ll ask what you’re going to do now, and you tell them what your plan is…which I don’t know either other than that you’re switching denominations and moving to Albany to work at _my_ dad’s church. I doubt that’s a steady income.”

“Going back to college to get a master’s in psychology is a start,” he said as he placed his hands on my waist. My hands lock around his neck. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about becoming a therapist.”

“That requires a PhD, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a place to start.”

“True,” I agreed, though I’m not sure this is the _best_ place to start. It must show because he presses a light kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “And we’ll be fine.” I really hope that’s true. Right now, I feel like I’m walking in a dark room fumbling for the light switch. Thorin kissed me one last time. “If you need anything, I’m down the hall.”

“Okay.”

He heads to his room while I unpack.

I hate feeling so uncertain.


	2. Chapter 2

I only get a couple hours to gather my wits before meeting the rest of Thorin’s family. Thank God, I’ve met most of them already.

We sit at a large round table in the kitchen and Fili and Kili instantly sit on either side of me. Kili’s parents sit to his left and Thorin and Frerin take Fili’s right, leaving Inez sits between Thror and Thrain and Thorin’s mother is between Dis and Thrain.

Thorin leads a quick prayer.

“So, Bilbo, are you Catholic?” Thrain asked. Oh, God, it’s going to be one of those conversations. I glance at Thorin. His eyes are flashing. Yep. Not the right question to ask.

“I was raised protestant,” I answered, “My father’s the pastor at First Church in Albany. But I’m currently…agnostic, I guess.” I stare at my plate. I'm not sure I can say I'm atheist anymore. 

“What’s your profession?”

God damn, they like digging graves! “I’m a published poet and, um, essayist.” “Essayist” may sound better than “blogger.”

“You can actually make money off writing?”

“I get by.”

“What topics do you usually write on?” Inez asks.

 _Sexuality, literature, philosophy, etcetera._ “It varies,” I answer. “Sometimes it’s literature, sometimes philosophy, morality. Mostly academic writing. Poetry can vary from…love poems to poems about certain social situations.”

“So you’re like Shakespeare?” Thror asked. I try not to wince at that.

“That is actually a kind of blasphemy. Shakespeare was a master wordsmith and every writer knows that we’ll probably never come across someone as magnificent as he was. Writing is an art that cannot be mastered. It never will be. And it would be arrogant to pretend I could. But I’m good enough to make livable amount off my work.”

“Grandpa, Dad, how about we let him eat,” Thorin said. Oh crap, he’s close to growling. That’s never good. But the next few minutes pass a little less awkwardly when Kili mentions that he’d been inside a police station. Thankfully no one broaches the topic to _why_ he was in a police station, which only means they probably already know what is going on.

Great. Wonderful.

Ladies, gentlemen, and non-binaries: welcome to my life.

“Thorin,” Thrain said. Oh, God, is it his turn. Must be since Kili whispers _duck for cover_ in my ear. “You’re thinking of leaving the clergy?”

“Yes, Dad, I am. I’m switching to a protestant denomination.”

“Doesn’t really make a decent income…”

“Actually a senior pastor can make a decent amount of money which mostly comes from the tithe,” I say.

“Yes, maybe,” Thrain said, “but Thorin is a youth group leader.”

“I was going to go back to school,” he said, “Become a psychologist.”

“Oh, a shrink?”

Is there a discreet way to look for an invisibility cloak? Or maybe an enchanted jewelry piece that’ll do the same? Seriously, a ring of invisibility would be rather convenient right now. Or maybe not.

“How exactly will you pay for the tuition?”

“I’ll manage,” Thorin said. “There’s hundreds of scholarships I can apply for, so don’t worry, Dad, you’ can hold onto your money. I don’t need it.”

If this is how they treat their children’s friends, I am terrified to find out what would happen when Thorin reintroduced me his as partner.

“I’m just saying you don’t need to bother. Come work at the bank,” Thrain said. “Join the family business—”

“Like I was ‘meant to’?” Thorin snapped. “Despite how many times I told you I have no interest in it? The bank is falling apart right now, Dad.”

“It’s a hiccup.”

“No, Dad, it’s not,” Frerin said. “It’s worse than you’re willing to admit.”

“And I told you and grandpa why that was. I specifically told you to _not_ trust Smaug and now look what’s happened.”

“There’s no proof that Smaug is behind it.”

“I gave you an abundance of proof!” Thorin snapped. I wish I could touch him, soothe him, calm him, and maybe kiss him. Yet I have to wait until we’re alone again, or at least with his siblings and nephews.

“Completely circumstantial. It’s unfortunate, but besides that—”

“He’s a conman!”

I lean against the back of my chair. Just once it’d be nice to have a meet the family dinner where there is no awkward conversation, no interrogations, no fights, and absolutely no attempted bloodshed.

Apparently that will not be happening to me.

#

“I am so sorry about them,” Thorin said as soon as everyone else save the two of us had gone to bed. “I should’ve given you a better warning about my father and grandfather.”

“I don’t think anything would’ve prepared me for that,” I said. “And it really could’ve been worse.” Thorin sat on his bed and hid his face in his hands. I positioned myself behind him and massaged his head and neck. He lowers his hands.

“Should we really wait to tell them?”

“Yes,” I said. “You just introduced me as a friend and they acted weird because I wasn’t Catholic, let alone Christian. Telling them we’re dating is going to pour oil over the fire. We need to wait for the flames to die down to embers first. Besides, half of your family already knows about us and they do not care that we’re gay. That’s a very good start.”

Thorin leaned against me. “Stay with me?”

“I’d love to, Babe, but I’d rather we not give your parents and grandparents a heart attack.”

“Not yet.”

“Should you say that about your family?”

“They’re conservative, orthodox pricks. Why do I care?” Thorin grumbled. I kissed his cheek and embraced him.

“Sweetie, I know how you feel. I felt the same way about my dad and his family before and I’m not saying it’s easy—far from it—but we can and we will get through this. It really could be worse. And if we approach telling them carefully, it should go well without causing too big of a rift between you and them. Okay?”

“Okay.” I squeezed him a little and kissed him before leaving for my room.

#

I head down to breakfast around nine o’clock. The only one in the kitchen is Thorin’s mother. I think she introduced herself to me last night as Clarissa. She’s piling toast onto a plate and grins at me.

“Hungry?”

“Yes,” I said, sitting down. “Thanks.”

Clarissa sat across from me, pulling her sandy blonde hair into a pony tail. “I’m sorry about last night. Our family can be a bit…”

“Crazy? I hear you.”

“Depends on your definition of crazy,” she said. I shrug. It’s true. My family’s brand of crazy is definitely different from Thorin’s family’s. “Still, Thrain and Thror shouldn’t have interrogated you. I actually happen to have one of your books of poetry. You’re very talented.”

I thank her again, taking a bite of toast.

“My I ask how you met Thorin?” she asked. “It’s just, I’m curious. You’re biography in the back of the book says you lived downtown with your male partner.”

I coughed. _Oh shit!_ “Uh, well, I…” _Oh fuck._

“It’s fine with me if Thorin’s your partner. I’ve known he was gay since he was in kindergarten. I thought he joined the priesthood because of the pressure he was under due to his sexuality.”

“Well, we are partners, but when the book was published, I was with someone else. He died a few months ago and I met Thorin at his funeral.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarissa said. She smiled. Would she still be smiling if she knew said partner was Dwalin? “Personally, I think you’re good for Thorin. I can’t risk buying his published work because his grandparents are old-fashioned and they’d be horrified if they found out. They’d probably never understand that sexuality is something unchangeable as one’s eye color. Thrain would think it a phase. But I’ve had the time to research and eventually began to understand. Thorin grew up a good man and that is all that matters to me. And if he has fallen in love, well, then, I’m glad it was with you.”

I blush. “Thanks, I guess. Are the women in the family usually so perceptive?”                                

“Yes.”

“Mom, you’re not scaring him, are you?” Thorin asked, entering the kitchen. A lump formed in my throat. _Did he have to wear sweat pants and a tight t-shirt? Damn it, Thorin._

“Of course not,” She assured him. Thorin picked up a slice of bread. “Just asking him how long you’ve been dating.”

Thorin froze, staring at her. “You knew?”

“I’ve known since you were four,” she said. “Not as subtle as you thought.”

“I didn’t realize I was gay till high school!”

“Well, smart as you are, Thorin, you are your father’s son.” He glared at her. I can’t blame him. I hate being compared to my father too, even if they are getting along a bit more now. “Your grandfather and father are a different story altogether.”

“Well, it just lessens the number of people I have to tell in the family.”

“Well…”

“Excluding uncles, aunts, cousins…you get the gist.”

“I do,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Now eat and freshen up. I want you and Bilbo to go to the market for me before noon. Just because you’ve left your job doesn’t mean you get to laze about all day. And take Azog with you.”

“Mom!”

“The dog needs to be walked and I don’t have time today to take him.”

“Sooner the better, then,” he muttered. I pat his shoulder. I like Clarissa.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a sunny day and by sheer luck, we’re able to get decently priced sunglasses. At least it wipes off Thorin’s nearly permanent scowl. From then on, we do Clarissa’s shopping at the Farmer’s Market, which is teeming with people all beguiled by Azog.

What is it about Thorin and me that the mutt hates?

“Does she even need _half_ of these things?” he mumbled. “Most of these can be bought for a cheaper price at QFC.”

“Some people prefer artisan works,” I told him. “Supports their work and even goes so far to feed them for the week or whatever. Depending on how much they manage to sell. So, even if it’s more expensive, that money can go a long way.”

Thorin sighed. “I guess that makes sense.”

I nudged his arm. “I didn’t expect you to be against Farmer’s Markets.”

“I’m not!”

“Sounded that way to me.”

Azog barked, shaking his butt when a little girl approached and asked to pet him. Thorin let her as she was already being licked. “I hate this dog,” he muttered when she walked off with her mother. I stare at Azog, who seemed cute and innocent but inside was a raging beast.

“I’m more a pit bull kind of person,” I admit. “Or cats. Cats are useful.”

“Useful?”

“They’re fluffy, can be cuddly, and are all skilled natural hunters,” I said. Thorin hummed, but did not indicate if he agreed or disagreed.

We go home after two hours and put the items on the table—save for food items which were stuffed into a rather full fridge.

Thorin wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my shoulder. “No one’s here,” he mumbled.

“For how long?” I ask, leaning against him.

Thrain, Thror, and Frerin would be at the bank trying to save it. Fili and Kili are at the YMCA or wherever it is they go during the summer. Clarissa’s at work too. I’ve no idea where Inez is and I’m guessing Dis and Víli would also be at work wherever that is for them.

Thorin hummed. “Till four or five tonight,” he said, “Just us and the mutt.”

“Really? You’re sure of that?”

“Positive.”

“And you’re that willing to take the risk that no one will really come home earlier?”

“You’re not?”

 _Damn you, Thorin, why?_ I turn my head to kiss him. “My room or yours?”

“Mine,” he said, letting me go. We headed for the stairs but were stopped by my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. “Who is it?” he asked as I answered.

“NYPD,” I told him. “Hello?”

“ _Bilbo, it’s Dori._ ”

“Hi, Dori. Is something up?”

“ _Someone’s been spotted outside your apartment and we managed to get security pictures from one of the shops nearby. Could you come take a look?_ ”

“Can’t you just send me one of them on your phone?”

“ _Sadly not,_ ” Dori said. “ _I don’t want to risk impeding my own investigation._ ”

“What do you think we’ll do with it? Post it online?”

“ _I don’t, but someone might. Like one of those two little boys you know. Your partner’s nephews._ ”

I sigh. Damn it. “Alright, I’ll be there.”

“ _See you soon_ ,” Dori said and hung up. I put my phone away.

“You need to go,” Thorin said.

“I do. I’m so sorry.” I really am. I would rather have sex with him. Thorin directed me toward the door. “Really, really sorry.”

“Bilbo, I get it,” he said. Azog followed us, ears perked up. “Stay,” Thorin snapped at him. Azog tilted his head to the side, trying to look cute, but Thorin ignored him and we left. “They really couldn’t talk about this on the phone?”

“Dori said they need me to see a picture and he refused to send it to my phone because though he trusts _me_ not to put it online, he’s worried one of your nephews might find it and decide to put it online. They wouldn’t though, would they?”

“There is very little they will not do if they think they’re helping,” Thorin said. “So, yeah, if they know that’s your stalker, they’ll put it online.”

“Great. At least I know their hearts were in the right place.”

“Small comfort,” Thorin said as we walked toward the subway. Is it sad that I agree? I’ve seen the boys’ kind of help. Awesome as that day was, I doubt tripping a waiter and covering an elderly homophobic couple really did anything besides get them banned from that particular restaurant.

I certainly haven’t been back there since.

Once at the precinct, Thorin waited for me in the lobby, arms crossed over his chest and slouching. Dori led me to his office and showed me the pictures.

“Sméagol Rivers is still incarcerated,” Dori said as I looked over them. “So unless you say that’s him…”

“It’s not,” I say, staring at the photos. It’s not Smaug either, and I was half certain it was. I even hoped that it was. “I don’t recognize him.” The man is blond and tall with a long nose and sharp chin, but beyond that, I don’t recognize him at all.

“Would Thorin?”

“I don’t know. Who would go after me that Thorin knows?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it?” Dori asked. It wouldn’t, so I sigh and let him show the picture to Thorin. Thorin peers at it.

“He looks familiar,” Thorin said. “Resembles an old rival of mine from school, but otherwise…”

“Who does he look like to you?” Dori asked.

“Thranduil Eryn-Lasgalen,” Thorin said. “It might not be him, though.”

Dori nodded. “It’s still something to go on,” he said, gathering the photos. “If it isn’t, then it’ll just be an inconvenience for him whereas send us back to square one. We’ll match the image to other possible suspects who may have something against Bilbo or might obsess with him.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. That makes me feel happy. Really, it’s so nice to know I’m _probably_ being hunted by a known criminal. My life sucks. Thorin rubbed my back.

“Ready to go home?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll figure out who this is as soon as I can,” Dori said. “Make sure you’re available.”

“Alright,” I tell him. Dori leads the two of us out and we thank Dori for his hard work.

#

I stare at my computer screen, trying to rationalize that the poems aren’t religious or spiritual in nature. And if they are, then I’ll blame Thorin. For now, I’ll put them in a new folder and look through them again in a little bit. Still, I’m going to need time before I can really come to grips that I might be…No, growing up in the church and actually adopting the faith is not the same thing. I certainly can’t send these to my editor, though.

I lean back in my chair and sigh.

“You okay?” Thorin asked, glancing at me from over his own laptop.

“Yeah. It’s been a rather…interesting day. You?”

“Just about done with this application,” he said.

I smile. “Job or are you actually filling out a college application?” Thorin doesn’t respond right away, so I stand and look over his shoulder. He’s on the University at Albany website, filling out an application there. “Online?”

“Yeah,” he said. I don’t know if he was actually listening. Didn’t sound like it. Oh well. I kiss his cheek just as someone entered the house. Dis’ voice echoes off the walls and the adrenaline rush vanishes.

“Everything okay here?” she asks, carrying black pumps in her hands.

“Yes,” Thorin said. “Anyone who shouldn’t know about us yet coming after you?”

“Nope,” she said. “Víli’s with the boys at the YMCA.” Dis smiles at me. “Víli’s an elementary school teacher. Volunteers at the YMCA over the summer where the boys go.”

“Huh. What about you?”

“Secretary at a law firm,” she said. “Hence these,” she holds the shoes up, “Are usually only on my feet when I need them to be. Be glad you never have to wear these, both of you.”

“Will do,” Thorin said. “Your feet are ugly anyway.” I smack the back of his head. “What?”

“Be nice to your sister.”

“I’m not a priest anymore. I’ve no qualms mocking her.”

Dis rolled her eyes. “I’m used to it,” she said. I glare at Thorin. There’s no reason on earth for her t be “used” to any cruelty from her siblings.

“I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t have siblings. This is normal. Ask your roommates. I’m sure they’ll agree with me.”

The sad thing is they really might. Nori can be nasty to Dori and Ori’s sarcasm is like a whip. Then there’s Bofur and Bombur and that can become a whole new world of scary.

“We’re having Chinese for dinner,” Dis announces, grabbing a pen and notepad. Thorin throws out that he wants yellow curry and pork potstickers with extra steamed rice. She looks at me.

“I’ve no idea what’s good with where you go for Chinese…”

“Do you like sweet and sour chicken?”

“Yes.”

“Fried rice, steamed rice, or chow mein?”

“Don’t make me choose!” I shout in mock distress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMN IT THORIN STOP BEING HORNY!!!! We’ll get there. Just deal with being cock blocked for a bit…
> 
> Eryn-Lasgalen= Eryn Lasgalen= Wood of Greenleaf (Sindarin, closest to Greenwood I could find)


	4. Chapter 4

The following day was not that much different than before. We walked the dog while everyone else was gone—Thorin argued that his mother was taking his current unemployment as a reason to get extra sleep. It’s something my mother would do, so I don’t refute it—and returned around noon.

At least it was cooler. Not by much, but still cooler.

I rubbed my closed eyes and stared at the paragraph I should be working on. Writer’s block is no fun. I pressed my forehead against the table.

 _Must get out of slump_.

“Headache?” Thorin asked.

The soft clatter of a cup being put on the table next to me rang in my ear and I looked at it.

“Not yet,” I said, thanking him for the ginger and chamomile tea. He kisses my cheek and I have to pull him back for a real kiss. “I love you.”

“And I you,” he said. “Which is why I was thinking—and you don’t have to decide now—you should come with me to Albany.”

I blink. Well, I hadn’t given that a thought.

We’ve dated only three months…okay, some do move in around this time, give or take. Others wait longer. Dwalin didn’t move in with me until around five or six months after we met.

Then again…Thorin and I met back in early November.

We met again in April and continued to meet then till we started dating…So we’ve known each other closer to five months.

In which case, time wise, there’s no reason _not_ to get a place together.

To add, Bofur and Nori are still in their new honeymoon phase…oh fuck, I don’t want to know what the _real_ honeymoon would be like…

Either way, giving them more time alone would be best for them, I suppose. Or, more importantly, me.

I’d not have to worry about the difference between us and my wallet won’t really suffer from traveling back and forth so often. And being self-employed is another benefit to agreeing to Thorin’s offer.

“I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“We’ve known each other longer than we’ve been dating,” I remind him. “And I still live with my college roommates. I _think_ it’s time to move out of their place anyway. Their only complaint to it will be the rent. Well, that’ll be more Nori’s complaint. You never really know with Bofur. Also, I was a little worried about the commute. Two hours is a long way. True, it’s not as far as…well,” I swallow. We both know. “And being self employed has its benefits.”

“As you keep stressing,” Thorin teased.

“I’m doing what I love, shoot me,” I said. “But at the moment, I can’t think of any reason not to move in with you, Thorin.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, a smile beginning to bud.

“Which could change,” I remind him. “It’s not a definite yes. Not yet.” He kissed me. I hummed into it. “Still your room?”

“Turn your phone off first—”

My phone rang.

I swear, the universe must be conspiring against us. If it were me, it’d be a humorous yet stupid plot twist in a book. I’m not amused and neither is Thorin.

“Tell me that’s not the police.”

“It’s not,” I promised, answering the phone. “Hello?”

“ _Hey, Bilbo. It’s Beorn._ ”

“Hi, Beorn.”

Thorin glared. “He knew,” he said. “I don’t know how, but he knew.”

I covered the mouth piece with my hand. “I highly doubt that.” I lowered it. “What’s up?”

“ _The exhibit’s opening soon. You’ll get official invitations in the mail, but there’s going to be a party for the models if you and your friends are interested._ ”

“I’ll let them know,” I said.

Thorin is glaring at me. Well, he’s probably actually glaring at my phone. I’m surprised it hasn’t exploded in my hand yet. But then I’d be a victim as well and…let’s just say I’m happy looks can’t kill anyone right now.

“ _Great. It’s next weekend at five pm._ ”

“Okay. We _might_ see you there.”

“What?” Thorin snapped. Oh great.

“ _Wonderful! Have a good day, Bilbo._ ”

“You too. Bye.” I hung up and grinned at Thorin. “His new exhibit’s up and there’s a private party for the models if you want to go.”

“Not particularly.”

“I didn’t think so, but I still need to let Bofur and Nori know at least.”

“Now?”

Why must he look like I had kicked him?

“Just a quick text and then I’ll turn off the phone,” I promised. “Okay? Just one more minute?”

He sighed and waved his hand.

Once I pressed send and turned the phone off, I let him lead me upstairs to his room.

The bed, covered in dark blue and black sheets, was pushed against the wall to our right and beneath a window, blinds blocking the view, was an old wooden desk with some papers on it. Beside the left wall was a bookcase filled with the books I’d seen in Thorin’s office.

Thorin locked his door and embraced me, kissing my neck.

His hands gripped my hips, pulling them close to his own. I gripped his wrists in mine, letting him grind against me. One hand cupped my growing erection and I bit back a moan.

“Tell me we have condoms and lube?” I asked.

He paused and I think he cursed.

Oh well. We just can’t do that.

I pull him to the bed and push him down before I unzipped his jeans and pulled his pants down his legs until his growing erection was freed. He propped up on his elbows and watched me settle between his knees. I stroke him until he’s fully erected, and then leaned down, meeting his gaze. I opened my mouth and licked the head, tasting precum. I pressed kisses along the length before I took him in my mouth with one hand gripped tightly around the base of his cock and the other around his sack and I sucked at the head and hummed before I slid a little further down, gently scraping the flesh with my teeth.

Thorin bit back a moan. His hands curled into fists around the blankets. I could feel him shake in effort to restrain from fucking my mouth. I slid off is length until only the head remained, leaving a film of spit on the skin, and circled the slit with my tongue. Another suck nearly made him lose control if the slight roll of his hips indicated anything. He repressed another moan and I released him, pulling his pants further off, kissing his skin and feet before I stripped my own clothes off. I pulled Thorin’s shirt off and kissed him.

“I thought we weren’t—”

“We aren’t,” I assured him, pressing my body against his, one hand gripping our dicks.

He closed his eyes, moaning again. I hid my face in the crook of his neck, panting. He rolled us over, and batted my hand away to take over. I slotted our mouths together to muffle our voices, and my nails scratched his back. I slid my tongue into his mouth and choked back a cry when he thrust down over me. His free hand squeezed my ass and the other slotted the heads together. I arched my back and Thorin bit my shoulder as we came. When he finally released me he sucked in a breath.

“Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Bit too hard.”

I laughed. “Relax,” I said, kissing him. “I’m not mad.”

He rolled off me and I sat up, stretching. The bed creaked as Thorin sat up as well. I felt his fingers trace down my spine and he kissed the uninjured shoulder before resting his chin against it.

“Still shouldn’t have bit that hard.”

“Again, I’m not upset,” I assured him. “It’s okay to get caught in the moment. May I use your shower? I’ve no intention of sneaking back to my room no matter _how_ close they are.”

Thorin chuckled.

“It is not funny!” I snapped. “Do you want us to get caught? Take it from someone who knows, _this_ is the _worst possible way_ to come out to your family!”

“Bilbo, no one’s here. We won’t get caught. But please, use my shower if it makes you feel better.”

I kissed him and head toward the bathroom. I can feel him watching me, so I turned around and smirked at him. “Care to join me?” I asked.

“We won’t get clean.”

“I thought your family wasn’t home yet,” I teased, leaning against the doorframe. The mock glare he sent me makes me grin wider. “Don’t like your own logic being used against you?”

“Not really.”

“Then come take a shower with me,” I said. Thorin stood and approached me. he pulled me into a kiss and I nipped his lower lip.

“We’ve only a couple hours,” he reminded me.

“Perfect,” I said, pulling him into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t planning on having a sex scene for a while…but…it just seemed a little too mean to make Thorin wait longer.


	5. Chapter 5

Thorin and I didn’t go to the party Beorn had thrown for the models, but I did convince him to go to the exhibit. The gallery where the exhibit took place was a small unit of a building with other offices around it.

Bofur and Nori entered first. Bofur mostly looked bored while Nori seemed to almost be making a game of how much he could steal before getting caught. He wouldn’t actually steal these anything—those days are behind us— _him!_

I meant him. I never stole a thing in my life…Except a pack of cigarettes…

“Are you warm?” Thorin asked.

“A little bit,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Why?”

He stroked the back of his hand along my cheek. “You’re cheeks are red.” I blush. “They just got redder.”

“No thanks to you. I think I just saw your piece,” I said, pulling him toward the photograph.  

I’m not sure what Beorn did, but _damn_ Thorin looks good. Not that he already doesn’t, of course; I just mean that he captured Morpheus perfectly. Thorin scowls at the portrait and I ram my elbow into his ribs. He glares at me.

“Stop scowling,” I said. “It’s good.”

“I just…don’t see myself like this.”

“Thorin, it looks really good.”

“Well, let’s see how you react to yours.” He grabs my shoulders and steers me away from his portrait.

“Seriously?”

“Why not?”

“Fine, but you don’t have to steer me around.”

“It’s more fun this way.”

“You are a child,” I snapped without any real bite.

“I’m a brother. There’s very little difference.”

“I can name a few.”

“Okay, _some_ difference,” Thorin corrected. “But still not very many.”

“So you do this to your siblings.”

“Dis is very fun to annoy.”

“Oh, I bet she is. What about Frerin.”

“Frerin has always been more annoying,” Thorin said. “Besides, sisters are evil!”

“So you’re brother is annoying but your sister is evil? Actually, that makes sense, but I also like your sister a lot.” Thorin sighed and embraced me.

“That worries me. You’ll plot things with her.”

“Yeah, I would,” I said, grinning at him. And there’s my picture. Kind of weird to see, but not embarrassing nor is it a bad shot. I arch my brow and look at him. “And?”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“How should it bother me? It’s not a bad shot and I’m happy to have done a favor for another artist.”

“Depends on what you call art,” he said. “Is blogging re—” I glare at him and he clears his throat. “I should shut up before that hole gets any deeper.” I nod, unsure if I’m smiling or sneering. I think both.

Writing takes a lot of time regardless what you’re writing! It’s a very dedicated practice thank you very much. True, we can argue the artistic value of academic and professional writing, but it’s still under the category of writing, which, in fact, is an art in its own way. I could never take photographs like Beorn, or play a musical instrument like Bofur and Nori, but still.

“Thorin Durin?”

Thorin turns toward the voice. He scowls. “Thranduil,” he growled. He’s blond and blue eyed with thick, dark eyebrows. A woman in an elegant green evening gown hangs off his arm, watching us curiously. “I see you still walk around acting like you own a place.”

Thranduil ignored the comment. “I would like to talk to you about something, Thorin, if you don’t mind.”

“About?”

“Why the police showed at my house and asked me whether or not I was stalking a two-bit writer.”

_Two-bit?!_

The woman lightly smacked his arm. “Be nice,” she snapped before looking at me. “Mr. Baggins, it’s an honor. I adore your poetry.”

Okay, I like her. “Thank you, Miss…”

“Mrs. Valery Eryn-Lasgalen,” she said. “I didn’t know you also modeled.”

“I don’t. It was a favor for a friend. Thorin’s Morpheus, by the way.”

“Well that’s one we won’t be buying,” Thranduil muttered.

“What part of be nice do you not understand?” Valery snapped.                                      

“I am being as nice as I possibly can.”

“Wow,” Thorin snorted. “I’m surprised your brain hasn’t exploded.”

Mother of God, what is wrong with my boyfriend?! “Behave,” I ordered.

“I am behaving! I’ve not hit him yet, have I?” And I thought the way he acted around Beorn was bad. “What if he’s your stalker?”

“I’m not,” Thranduil hissed. “If you’ve not noticed, I have a _wife_.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not stalking Bilbo,” Thorin sneered. Which is true, I’ll admit.

“We are sorry about the trouble it’s caused,” I said, linking my arm around Thorin’s just in case his restraint snaps. “And I’m sure it’s an innocent until proven guilty sort of thing, but…”

“I told him as much,” Valery said. “Whoever it is, I hope they’re caught soon.”

“Thanks.” I pull Thorin away. “Come on, let’s go find Nori’s and Bofur’s pictures. We can make fun of them while pretending to be posh while having wine and expensive cheese.”

He follows easily enough, thank God. I hate to think what would happen if he started a fight. Probably get kicked out.

“I like his wife,” I said, “But we should probably avoid them for a bit.” Thorin nodded and held my hand.

“Nori’s and Bofur’s?”

“Yes.”

We get roped into a conversation with Beorn instead. Well, I do. Thorin glares at him behind his wine glass and eventually gravitated away to look at one of the other portraits. At least he’s behaving…unless he runs into Thranduil again. Well, I’ll not dwell on it. If it happens, it happens.

Beorn introduces me to a few of his other models. Some know me from my blog or my poetry, others never even heard of me. They promised to read my stuff at some point, but usually they never do. It’s fine by me, I don’t care. I still get money for what I do anyway, so while more readers are always nice, it’s not necessary.

I’m in the middle of a conversation with Claire—who modeled for Hera—when my phone goes off. I apologize and look.

> _Unknown Caller_

I lick my lips, hoping it’s a prize giveaway or some other shit, and open the text.

> _I see you. I’m coming for you._

I look up, searching the crowd, trying to see if any blond men are looking at me.

“Bilbo?” Beorn said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh, do you have any idea where Thorin went?” Beorn shook his head, brow furrowed. I look around again. Where did he go?

“Who’s Thorin?” Claire asked.

“My boyfriend.”

“Morpheus," Beorn clarified.

“I think I saw him head to the bathroom,” she said, pointing down the hall.

Ah. Wonderful.

I thank her and excuse myself from the crowd. I’ve second thoughts once I see how empty the hallway leading to the bathrooms is. A part of me is tempted to go back into the crowd and stick close to Beorn, or Nori and Bofur. Well, checking to see if Thorin really is there won’t take long. The only problem is that the hall is long, and there’s a corner that’s just as empty. 

And I really need to get a fucking hold of myself! My stalker might not even be here!

Sadly, rationalizing anything often never works for me when I’m scared. The further away from the crowd I go, the more I hear my steps echo off the walls and the faster my heart beats. I feel eyes burning into my back and I want to turn around. I want to see if I am being followed and to reassure myself there’s nothing to worry about.

I never turned around. Not until I’m at the door and looked over my shoulder. Someone is watching me behind the corner. All I see is a shoulder, but it’s enough to send me into a panic.

_Oh fuck!_

I open the door and nearly ram into Thorin. He steadies me, hands gripping my shoulders. “Bilbo?”

“I got another text,” I said.

Thorin looked over my shoulder and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “We’re leaving,” he said. I nodded and texted Nori and Bofur. We met them with Beorn and said goodbye.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Nori asked. I nodded again, feeling queasy.

“Make sure he gets rest,” Beorn said. He looked murderous and Bofur was looking around. “Let us know when you two get home.”

“Sure,” Thorin said. We leave and head for the subway. Once in the car, Thorin and I take a seat and I try not to feel sick from the movement. I’m never this shaken! I never felt like this when Beorn was following me around the city! Thorin rubbed my back as I tried not to wretch cheese and wine. “Do you want to stop and get something more substantial to eat?” Thorin asked. I shake my head.

“I feel a bit sick,” I said. He kissed my forehead. Once back at the Durin’s townhouse, Thorin gets me a glass of water. Thorin sits beside me, still rubbing my back. “Can I stay in your room for the night? I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course, sweetie.” He kisses my forehead. “I love you, Bilbo.”

Why is it that this particular stalker fills me with so much dread?

What makes him different from the other creeps I’ve known?

I fall asleep with Thorin’s arms around me and my face hidden in his chest, fears slowly receding and officially becoming tomorrow’s problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting next week, we'll be updating on Thursdays.


	6. Chapter 6

“Uncle Thorin?” Kili asked behind the door, followed by two knocks before Kili ventured inside, looking around the room. Thorin groaned and I opened my eyes, glancing at Kili. He looked a little surprised that I was in here, but recovered quickly. “Breakfast is ready.”

“All right,” Thorin groaned, tightening his grip around my waist.

“You weren’t doing anything you shouldn’t, were you?” he asked. I blushed and Thorin groaned.

“We’re more careful than that,” Thorin assured him. “And you’ll not say a _word_ …”

“I know!” Kili said. “Zombies will rise from the grave and the apocalypse will begin.” I laugh and Kili closes the door.

“What is it with Zombies?” Thorin said. “I don’t quite get it.”

“There are a number of factors,” I said, kissing his shoulder before propping up on my elbows. “Personally I just think the millennial generations just…I suppose…where our parents’ generation was dreaming of time machines and hovercrafts, Kili’s is thinking about the end of the world or something like that. They see global warming, dystopian governments, and a rise of anarchy…but that’s just one idea behind it.”

“Why do I feel like _The Walking Dead_ is responsible?”

“And the multitude of zombie movies isn’t? Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s not. _In the flesh_ is pretty good. Admittedly _Shaun of the Dead_ is worth it and begs a very, very serious question?”

Thorin opened his eyes and stared at me. He has no right being so sexy when he’s sleepy! “I sincerely doubt a comedy can raise a serious question.”

“But it does: if a zombie apocalypse were to happen, could the rest of humanity find a way to control them so they don’t actually pose any threats to human lives. I mean, they _do_ , but…you see what I mean?”

“Strangely yes,” Thorin said. “And I’m expecting a very serious, academic article on your blog on this topic.” I laugh. “Really, I want to see that.”

“I will think on it,” I promise. “If anything, I’ll probably get new readers.”

“See? Brighter side of writing about zombies.”

“Better zombies than vampires,” I say, getting out of bed. “Poor bloodsuckers got too romanticized. No one’s scared of them anymore.”

“Maybe you can save their reputation after aiding zombie publicity,” Thorin said. I closed the door behind me, snickering. Zombies and vampires. It’s not even Halloween yet! But it’ll probably make an interesting satire Halloween based series. Which begs the question, do I also write an essay on werewolves and ghosts? Ghosts will be popular. Disembodied spirits are a worldwide phenomenon. Hell, if I want I could also add in aliens.

Okay, maybe not aliens. No one really classifies aliens as supernatural, but extraterrestrial…which, actually, now that I think about it, kind of _is_ supernatural. At least to the human mind it would be supernatural. Wouldn’t it? So I _could_ write about aliens if I wanted to.

So many topics! Why is the supernatural so broad?!

 _Damn it, Thorin!_ I thought as I climbed into the shower. _Stop giving me new things to write about!_

#

After breakfast, I called Dori to let him know about the text and the man’s appearance. He couldn’t promise much, but he did say he’d at least check security cameras in the area, have me identify him later in the day. I agreed to see him in the afternoon and returned to looking at the apartments Thorin had wanted me to look at.

It’s certainly better than listening to the growing argument between Thror and his grandchildren. As it was the last time, they’re fighting about Smaug. Thror refuses to believe there’s a problem at the bank or that the IRS is investigating them along with Social Services.

Maybe if I logged onto Pandora or Spotify, I could block them out _mostly_ completely. That proves more difficult when Thror starts screaming at them in Italian. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it doesn’t sound pleasant.

I close the laptop and decide to see how the kids are. They’re in the living room watching a show. In the corner is the CW logo. “What’s this?”

“Dragonball Z Kai,” Fili answered.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Sure,” they said. When the commercials come on, Kili attempts explaining the plot, but personally, I haven’t any clue what he’s even saying.

“It’s an anime,” is all Fili said, shrugging. “They’re next to impossible to explain without someone being confused. For instance, my favorite series is _Death Note._ It’s about a guy who finds a notebook that belongs to a god of death and he kills criminals with it and becomes a criminal himself.”

“Okay,” I said. It’s all I can really think. A notebook that can kill people? Really? What is this?

“See, easy and simple explanation and he still doesn’t get it.”

“Are you sure that’s because anime is impossible to explain or is it because he’s an adult?” Kili asked. I find that a little insulting, but decide not to comment.

The show ended and switched to a new series I’m unfamiliar with. They also name it an anime.

“Bilbo, after this, since they’re all going to be yelling at each other probably all day,” Kili began. “Would you take us to the park?”

“You’ll have to ask your parents first,” I said. “But I don’t mind making a tactical retreat for a few hours.” At the next commercial break, they rush over to their mother to ask. I pull my phone out to check the time, remembering the text I received last night, and shuddered.

 _Bilbo, pull yourself together!_ I tell myself, taking a breath and rub my face with my hands. I refuse to let whoever my stalker is scare me into staying inside. Yes, I was frightened last night, but I’m not going to let him control what I do from here on out. If I want to go outside with my lover’s nephews, maybe shoot some hoops and get some hot dogs, I will fucking do so!

“Bilbo?” Dis asked. “Did the boys really ask you if you’d mind taking them to the park today?”

“Yeah, they did. I really don’t mind, Dis. I can watch them for you while you and your brothers sort out the mess at the bank or whatever it is you’re arguing about now.”

“Still the bank,” she said, sighing. “Thank you. They already went to get ready, so give it about half an hour or so…”

“Sure.”

When the boys were ready to go, we met Clarissa at the door, putting a leash on Azog. Azog barked, tail wagging when he saw the boys and Kili knelt to scratch behind his ears. Fili adjusted the basketball under his arm.

“Going out?” she asked.

“Yes, Grams,” Kili said. “Want to come with us? We’re going to the park.” Fili tries to look neutral, but there’s a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“Sure,” she said. I shrug. I don’t mind another person being around. Kili straightens, announcing that he’ll go grab Azog’s ball so they can play fetch. Looking at Azog, I’m not sure he _can_ play fetch. He tilts his head at me, big blue eyes wide and innocent. I’m not convinced.

When Kili returns, we leave. Clarissa locks her arm around mine and lets Kili walk Azog. “I’m sorry about this morning,” she said. “My children and father-in-law really ought to know better.”

“Well, I’ll admit it’s a bit awkward, but fights happen. I can’t say my family’s any better.”

Clarissa patted my arm. “You’re a fine young man, Bilbo,” she said. “If Thorin was to fall in love with anyone, I’m glad it was you.” I blush and stare at my feet. They’re rather big compared to most people, but I’m so used to them I sometimes forget they’re big despite my height.

I’ve not been insecure about them since middle school, so why now?

I push the once buried thoughts back under the box, looking up to see where Fili and Kili had gone off to. They’re waiting for us at the street corner.

“You two are too slow!” Kili said, pouting at us.

I resist the urge to retort about walking around with older women on your arm. If it was my mother, I’d not care. I’d gladly risk getting a slap to the back of my head. With Clarissa, though, being snarky so soon could have disastrous consequences.

Once at the park, we find a decent spot of grass for the boys to play fetch with Azog. I’m a bit worried when the dog bites Kili’s trousers and starts tugging, but Kili just laugh and pulls away, letting Azog chase him around in circles.

“Bilbo?”

I turn to the woman and repress the groan bubbling in the back of my throat. “Hi, Mom,” I said.

Clarissa stood and approached her. I don’t hear what they say, but I’ve a good idea anyway and when both of them start tittering and laughing, I know my fate is sealed and I am doomed. The boys and the dog return. Azog sits on my feet. Is he warming up to me?

“Who’s that lady?” Kili asked.

“My mother,” I answered.

“She’s hot,” Fili said with a smirk. I smack the back of his head. “What? She is!”

“That is my mother! How would you feel if I said something like that about yours?”

“It’d be the last thing you’d…oh. Sorry.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Bilbo!” Mom calls. I groan.

“Ice cream truck,” Kili said. “Let’s go.”

“Not good enough to run. Give it five minutes then come to my rescue,” I said. They agreed and Kili picked up Azog. I approached them stiffly, as if being walked to the gallows. “Yes, Mom?”

“Clarissa was thinking of planning a family dinner, and I told her you were an excellent cook.”

 _Mom, why?_   I shrug. “I’m decent.”

“Perhaps you could help.”

 _Not sure if I want to if you two are conspiring. I know you are_. “Sure. I’d love to.”

“Wonderful,” Mom said. “He helped his friend propose to his boyfriend earlier this year. I’m afraid I wasn’t there, but I saw pictures on Facebook…”

Oh God, save me now, I beg of you. Kili and Fili run up. “Grams, there’s an ice cream stand,” Kili said. “Can we get ice cream? Please?”

“Boys,” Clarissa warned, arching a brow. They turned to Mom and grinned at her.

“Fili,” Fili said.

“And Kili,” Kili added.

“At your service, Ma’am,” they said in unison. That was rehearsed, little brats. Mom laughed.

“If only Bilbo was more like that at their age…”

 _Fuck my life_ , I thought.

“Thorin too,” Clarissa added. “I’m afraid he was less than polite than my grandsons. He had a terrible temper too. Half the time, I wasn’t sure if it was just him or his best friend’s influence.”

“Grams?”

“Yes, you may get ice cream so long as you get one for everyone.”

“I got it,” I said. “Vanilla, Mom? And…”

“Strawberry for Grams,” Fili said. We bade them goodbye, hoping not to run to the ice cream stand. “You’re a cougar magnet, aren’t you?” Fili asked when we were far enough from them. I smack the back of his head. “Am I right?”

“Unfortunately,” I sighed.


	7. Chapter 7

“…yet,” I heard Clarissa say to Mom. “I simply knew long before Thorin realized it himself. To be honest, I was a bit skeptical at first—worried. Bigoted, actually. It took me a long time to accept it. But by the time I did, Thorin had decided to enter the clergy. All in all, I think if Thorin was going to enter a relationship with someone, he couldn’t have done better if he wanted to.”

Mom laughed. “To be honest, some of Bilbo’s exes had worried me. I thought he did well when he met Dwalin, but…”

Clarissa’s smile disappeared. “Dwalin?” she asked. “As in Dwalin Fundin?”

“Yes,” Mom asked.

I cleared my throat and handed out the cones. “I didn’t know you were with Dwalin,” Clarissa said, taking her ice cream from Fili.

“No one asked,” I said. “I met Thorin at Dwalin’s funeral.”

“Who’s Dwalin?” Kili asked. Fili stepped on his foot. “Ow! Why’d you do that?!”

“Shut up,” Fili hissed, pulling Kili away with Azog.

I sighed and turned to Clarissa. “I wasn’t trying to keep it secret,” I assured her. “You never asked my last partner’s identity, so I didn’t feel the need to say anything about it. I know Thorin and Dwalin used to be close, so…”

“But you didn’t know each other until Dwalin’s funeral,” she surmised. I nodded, awkwardly eating ice cream and hoping the two women would change the subject.

They did. Back to me and Thorin.

“So, Bilbo,” Mom said, smirking. “Have you and Thorin decided to get married yet?”

Oh, for the love of God. “Mom, it’s not even been six months and my best friends are getting married. Finally.”

“Yeah, it’s about time they did.”

“So no, we aren’t getting married. At least not for a while.”

“I’m just saying, you and Dwalin were together for five years…”

“He was going back and forth from the middle east!” I remind her, grabbing my phone. “It’s a little hard to plan a wedding around that.” She shrugged, but said no more on the subject. Well I might as well give them something to talk about. “We are thinking of moving to Albany together.”

“Finally,” Mom said. “I was worried you’d stay with your college roommates for the rest of your life.”

“They’re getting married. Why would I want to stay with them?” I asked. I texted Thorin, begging him to save me. His response is just as curt as my plea:

> _Why?_

“Why” he asks! Not _where are you? I’ll be there soon_. “Why.” Eloquent.

> _You’re mother met mine. They asked about weddings! I had to tell them we’re moving in together just to make them change topic._

Clarissa shouts after the boys, who chase after us. Azog looks like he’s bouncing more than running after us, tongue lolling out of his mouth. My phone alerts me to a new text from Thorin:

> _I think I’ll stay at home for now. Bad things are going to happen now that your mother has met mine. I can feel it. I’ll see you when you get home._

I glare at my phone and plot my revenge.

“Shall we have lunch?” Mom asked Clarissa. I look at them.

“I know a perfect Italian place I think you’ll like, Belladonna,” Clarissa asked, leading the way. I hope it’s a family restaurant.

> _How is it safer at home?! Everyone was acting like howler monkeys before I left with your mom and nephews._

His text is abrupt.

> _Don’t ask. I’m still fuming._

I wince.

> _I’m sorry, baby. We’re going to lunch and then I’ll probably take the boys home if our moms want to hang out some more. There’s no way I’m staying with them all day just to avoid the warzone at your home. I love you._

“Bilbo!” Mom shouted, beckoning me to keep up. She looks like she’s ready to take my phone away from me if I don’t. I wouldn’t put it past her to try either.

#

When we finally return, the house is almost horror-movie-esque quiet. Which is never a good sign, but I feel like the only one feeling this way when Clarissa and the boys stomp up the stairs and I’m acting like a little rabbit.

“Don’t worry about it, Dear,” Clarissa said, unhooking Azog’s leash. “The war is far from over. It’s just the quiet before the storm.”

“So it’s going to get worse,” I said. “Great.” Clarissa shrugs and the boys rush to the living room, setting up Mortal Kombat. Clarissa goes to the kitchen. I decide to check on Thorin after removing my shoes. I knock on his door and it jerks open. I almost jumped under the dark glare Thorin fixed me with. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“You’re home,” he said. I’m not sure how to translate that.

“Can I come in?” I asked. I suppose it’s a silly question, but the pure ire radiating off him made me wary. Thorin nodded and sat on his bed, massaging his forehead. I sat next to him and embraced him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he said, resting his head on my shoulder. “I don’t know how I’m going to come out to my family at this rate. It doesn’t seem like it’s ever a good time. And so many already know, I fail to see the point of coming out to the rest of them.”

“You have had an unusually lucky experience in coming out to your relatives so far,” I said, running my fingers through his hair. “So I get why you think there’s little point in coming out to the rest of them. But if they find out why we’re moving in together or if we’re caught in a compromising position…” He snorts. I tug on his hair gently. “Being caught kissing can have disastrous consequences if the rest of your family doesn’t know, Thorin.”

“I know. It just feels like it’s not worth it.”

I sighed. “All in all, it’s not healthy and I’d really rather not keep our relationship secret from your grandparents, no matter how conservative they are. Either way, when you come out I’ll be here with you. I will say, it likely helps that your siblings, nephews, and mother already know about us.”

Thorin doesn’t respond and the room enters into silence. I wonder if he fell asleep.

“When do you need to see Dori?” he asked. Not asleep then.

“Soon,” I said. “I’m still waiting for him to call me.” Thorin tightened his grasp around my waist and I kiss the top of his head.

“I hate this,” he said.

“Hate what? Needing to come out?”

Thorin scoffed. “It has more to do with that my grandfather _needs_ to retire from the bank and doesn’t agree. I hate that he ignores me and my siblings. He treats us as though we’re still children or something like that. My Dad, too. I hate that Smaug’s got his claws on my family because of it and I hate how I can’t do anything to stop whoever’s after you. I hate feeling useless.”

“You are _not_ useless,” I said, giving his hair another sharp tug. “You’re there when I really need you to be. You’re the kindest, sweetest man I know. And you care about things even I wouldn’t give a crap about. Honestly, Thorin, when I lost Dwalin, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t expect to meet you when I did. And I never expected to see you again after.”

“You were trying to hide behind a copy of the pieta,” Thorin said. “And you were crying. I thought it was a weird place. Most would’ve gone to the bathroom if they needed privacy. I knew I probably should’ve left you alone, but…for whatever reason, I couldn’t.”

“I think I shouted at you.”

“I don’t remember. I thought it was just a chance encounter.”

“Then I spilled coffee on your coat a few months later.”

Thorin chuckled. “I thought we ran into each other and you offered to wash my coat and gave me coffee out of a Star Wars mug. I think it was a Star Wars mug.”

“Those mugs are actually my roommates. They’re perfect for each other. Their maturity _alone_ …not that I’m any better.”

“You’re kind of better,” he said. I laughed. “Maturity’s overrated anyway. Kids want to be adults and then when we _are_ adults, we want to be kids again.”

“Well, there are some perks about being an adult. You get to live on your own.”

“But you got to pay bills.”

“You don’t have a bed time.”

“But need to be at work at a certain time.”

“Not if you’re me.”

“You’re one of the lucky ones, Bilbo.”

“I wouldn’t say lucky. My writing doesn’t make that much.”

“You live off your writing, don’t you? I think you’ve successfully managed to make a career of what you love.” I kissed his forehead.

“Feel better?”

“A little.” My phone rang and I released him.

“Hello?”

“ _Bilbo, you have to come home_ ,” Nori said. “ _Someone broke into our apartment. They trashed your room. Bofur’s calling the police right now, but you need to get here now!_ ”

“Okay, Thorin and I are coming. We’ll be there ASAP.”

Thorin stared at me with a furrowed brow and I recapped Nori’s message. His lip curled into a snarl and he followed me down the stairs. We sent assurances of return to Clarissa from the kitchen and fled the house. At the apartment, on seeing my room, I felt as though I’d been dunked in ice water and tossed into a blizzard at the state of my room.

The bed sheets and mattress had been slashed. My desk overturned. Books—anthologies, novels, sources, and my own published works—had been ripped apart. Pages covered the floor and the clothes I had left here had been equally destroyed.

“This happened while you two were at work?” Thorin asked.

Nori nodded. “The landlord called me,” he said. “And I called Bofur.” I picked up one of the broken picture frames. One of the pictures of me and Dwalin was ripped apart. Actually, nearly all the pictures with me and Dwalin were destroyed. (Thorin and I hadn’t the chance to get pictures of each other yet. We would be able to now that he’s left the clergy.)

But who’d…why would…

I set the paper scraps down.

“Have you touched anything?” Dori demanded from me when he arrived.

I arched a brow at him. “I’ve touched everything in here at least once, Dori.”

“I meant since the break in.” Oh. Yeah. I probably shouldn’t have done _that_. I nodded. Dori massaged his forehead. “Okay,” he said. “Bilbo, Thorin, join Nori and Bofur in the hallway, please. I’ll be out in a moment to ask some questions.” Thorin led me out of the apartment.

“Still looking for him?” Bofur asked. I nodded again. The three of them look at me and I shake my head. I’ve no idea who it is. Thorin can be convinced it’s Thranduil all he wants. I’m not. He’s an ass, sure, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who’d do this. The only person I know who would dare to do this is…

I shake my head. I don’t want to think about Sauron. He’s dead and I refuse to let his memory haunt me. And Sméagol is still in prison. So it can’t be him either.

Can it?


	8. Chapter 8

“I can’t believe Dad put us in separate rooms,” I muttered as Thorin got dressed. “Seriously, what is he thinking? We’re not teenagers—”

“He’s not hounding us for moving in together.”

“He had that look, though! The one where that tells you he can’t control you, but he doesn’t support this decision. For God’s sake, he knows I’ve had sex before—forget what he feels about it being outside of marriage—it’s not like we’re committing adultery!”

 “Well, historically—”

“It was their only kind of birth control!”

“And it worked, didn’t it.”

“I doubt it really did anything.”

“The world may never know,” Thorin said, pulling on a shirt.

I huffed.

“Most churches, open and affirming or not, are going to be conservative.”

“Wasn’t Jesus progressive, though?”

“He was. Bilbo,” Thorin grabbed my shoulders. “Take a deep breath. Your Dad is following a tradition I normally would follow myself. Especially with my nephews.”

He shuddered. Yeah, I’m not sure either of them is ready to date.

“We’re in our thirties, Thorin.”

“Yes, we are, which is why your Dad has not _said_ anything. He can disagree all he likes, but he knows you can take care of yourself. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to worry. Now really, calm down. Just because he knows about us doesn’t mean he’s going to let us sleep in the same room. He can’t stop us from moving in together and he’s not tried to.”

He pressed his hand to my cheek and I pressed against it, kissing his wrist. I was hoping to be able to have time alone with Thorin when Dad was gone, but he was determined to keep that from happening.

“Let’s go have breakfast, then check out those places we were looking at. We’ve a lot of places to go.”

I sighed and nodded Thorin kissed me, bumping his nose against mine gently. We left the room, heading down the stairs to the kitchen.

Dad just laid out a platter of pancakes.

After exchanging greetings, asking who wanted a drink, and a quick prayer over the food, Thorin and I told Dad we’d be gone all day looking at houses.

Really, there wasn’t much else to talk about.

Unless we want to tell him about my stalker, but I get the feeling Dad’ll have a fit over that. Heck, I don’t even know _why_ I have a stalker, let alone _who_ it is!

When Dad had his back turned to restock the pancakes, Thorin squeezed my thigh, smirking at me as I gently smacked his hand away. It returned to above the table as Dad turned around.

“So, other than looking for a new place, have you two any plans?”

Thorin and I exchanged glances.

We were going to make it a bit of a date, have lunch somewhere nice in the early afternoon. Thorin tells him about his enrollment for online classes in Psychology, which Dad encourages.

“It’s difficult to get by if you don’t have a support system of some sort. Tithing usually does the trick, but,” Dad shrugged. “Can’t always just rely on that. Some pastors also work as teachers or professors, depending where they preach.”

After helping Dad clear the table and tell him we’ll be back for dinner, we head out.

The first place is on Broad Street: a 1,306 square foot multi-family home with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. A couple windows are boarded, though, which means there’d be an extra cost to get those fixed—honestly, if you’re going to sell a house, the most you can do is make is presentable, right? Maybe a fresh coat of paint and some _new_ windows if a couple have been boarded up for whatever reason. Still, “don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“You sure about this?” I asked as we stepped inside.

The realtor led us to the living room. A fireplace is built into the wall and there’s some chipped paint coating it. A floorboard creaks under me. I arch a brow at Thorin, who shrugged.

“Listing was as-is,” he said.

Again, if you’re going to sell a place, the least you can do is give it a few touch ups if needed. New windows wouldn’t go amiss, after all. The kitchen has a black-and-white checkered tile floor and the wood counters are chipped in some places.

Honestly, I’m not sold. Neither is Thorin and after the tour, we thank the agent and head on our way.

“Where to next?”

Thorin rubbed my back, leading me to Franklin Street for our next appointment.

It’s a studio apartment with 3 bathrooms. It also needs some work, but otherwise, it’s not bad. It’s bigger than where we were looking before (2,280 square feet).  The floor’s a bit chipped, but the floorboards don’t creak and it’s not like I’ve anything against carpets.

However, the realtor cuts the tour short when he catches us holding hands.

Thorin was furious, ready to argue with him. I just sighed and dragged him out of the building.

“You can’t just—”

“I don’t like it either,” I said, “But I’m not going to let this bring us down. It’s his loss. Not ours. It’s not like there’s nowhere else, Thorin.”

“Is this what you have had to deal with?”

“More than you know. Not many people get that we don’t have a choice. If it was, why would anyone chose to be ostracized or hated? I _don’t_ like it. But I’ve dealt with it enough to learn to shrug it off, especially when it’s someone who doesn’t know me. Now come on, we’ve time before our next appointment and I, for one, would like to get something to eat before then. Maybe that’ll help you let you cool off.”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair and glared at the building before heading to lunch. “The next place has been gutted, just so you know.”

“Hey, home improvement,” I said with a shrug. “At least I won’t be horrified when I see it.” Thorin chuckles and kisses my forehead. “Anything else I should know about the next place?”

“It’s one of the ones you looked at.”

“Oh, I remember it. Yeah, that place will need work, but at least it had _pictures_ of the interior. Plus: six bedrooms. We can have an office or two!”

“You hated the first place.”

“For something that is supposed to be complete, it needed work! Which normally I wouldn’t mind, but,” I shook my head. “I wasn’t sold. You know what I mean?”

Thorin shrugged. “It’d cost less to fix.”

“And yet, it’d still be based on what was already there. This way, entirely ours.” I loop my arm around his. “Wouldn’t that be better? My dad could help rebuild it. Look, I don’t mind remaking an entire interior of a house if we have to. The other place simply didn’t sit well with me enough to even _consider_ living there.”

“You’re basing a decision off of intuition. You know that, right?”

“What’s wrong with trusting your gut?”

“What if your gut is wrong?”

“Well, we’ll see,” I said. “You might like the idea of having something to do with your hands between studying and ministering to teenagers.”

“Maybe,” he said, sighing deeply, leading me to Lark Street. “Hungry?”

I grinned. “Always.”

#

_The dark, red light always took some getting used to._

_He always had to wait for his eyes to adjust before he could do his work. He picked up a dripping piece of photography paper with tongs, putting it in another basin as the photograph developed._

_While the new pictures developed, he approached the ones he had taken before._

_He picked one of the dry photographs, staring at the man within. He smiled at another man who all that was seen of was his back, ardor in his eyes._

_It had been years since he’d seen his beloved. He would be happy to see him again. This time, it’d be better. He’d see. They’d all see._

_The pictures would only sustain him for long._

_The texts were his way of telling his beloved he was near._

_He couldn’t risk going back to the apartment, not again. He’d been angry._

_Too angry as he looked on the pictures of his beloved with another—a different person than the current one his beloved was beside._

_He needed to be more careful. He needed to be cautious otherwise all his hard work would amount to nothing._

_He’d get his beloved back._

#

The house on Pearl Street—the one that needed remodeling—would need more work than I assumed. Perhaps I could get Bofur to take a look. Or maybe someone he knows could take a look.

Either way, it doesn’t look like this place will be ready for a while, unless we bought it _now_ and begin remodeling tomorrow—which simply wasn’t possible.

Sure, at the very least I’d want a bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen ready, but unless we got started as soon as possible.

At the same time, there are two more places to look and Thorin isn’t convinced.

Our next stop is Clinton Street. This place looks more promising than some of the others we’ve seen. And the loft on the second floor is ideal for an in-home garden. There are four bedrooms and two bathrooms, which, to Thorin, sounds ideal. No creaky floorboards, or scratched surfaces. Maybe needs some paint here and there, but for the most part, I wouldn’t mind living here. It’s promising, at least.

And so is the last place we go, on Park Avenue. It’s not huge. Nor are there as many rooms as the other places we’ve been to, but it’s quaint. There is more space between houses, too. This house was being sold by the owners—a late-middle aged couple whose daughter had already moved out and they were retiring to Florida.

“So, are you two friends?” The woman asked. Thorin took my hand in his. He was tense and I felt it prudent to be ready to leave. She hummed. “Partners. I see.”

“That isn’t a problem, is it?” I ask.

“Far from it,” her husband chuckled. “Our daughter’s a transsexual.” Oh, well that was pleasantly unexpected. I squeeze Thorin’s hand and the tour began.

All in all, it wasn’t that bad of a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take note that the places they go to…well…I wasn’t looking at a map when I wrote this chapter, so likely these places are further away from each other than I had made them seem. But they are real places in Albany (looked at via zillow)


	9. Chapter 9

The table is covered in shopping bags from JC Penny and Nordstrom Rack. Kili is showing off his new jacket while Fili is packing his school supplies in a Janspsort backpack.

“Kili, Fili, take your things upstairs,” Thrain ordered. The boys grabbed their respective bags and raced up the stairs. I look at Thorin, who shook his head.

 _Not yet_.

The ride back to New York had another conversation about coming out. He decided to do once we were back and I’m a little…anxious from the anticipation. I did remind him—again—that he had nothing to fear. Most of his family already knew. He needn’t live in the closet when he was already mostly out. If anyone could be “mostly out.”

Dis, Víli, and Frerin tried to help calm him down. They know. His siblings are ridiculously perceptive. Still, I wish we’d just get it over with. The sooner the better and maybe it’d still be daylight if they kick us out. I even called Mom to let her know what’s been going on. Beyond the rant about the stalker—don’t ask why I would tell her but not Dad. Somehow she can handle that sort of news a bit better than he would—she wished us luck and told me to call her to let her know how it goes.

It wasn’t until the boys went to bed that Thorin requested to talk to them. We sat in the parlor and drinks were passed around. I accepted but didn’t drink. I felt a bit queasy and while a drink _would_ help. I don’t see how it’d end good and I’d rather be sober for this.

“So, you know I decided to leave the clergy,” he said. “And I said it was because was more unorthodox than other priests. I know that…confused you, for the most part.” He glanced at Inez for a moment before taking a breath. “But I decided to leave because I’m…” He reached for my hand and I took it, giving it a squeeze. Thrain saw it. He leaned back in his seat, staring at our hands, then at us. I can’t read his expression. “I’m gay,” he said. “Bilbo’s my partner.”

I dared to look up at Inez and Thror. Inez was pale and Thror steadily going red. They may be too old to understand.

“I _knew_ there was something _wrong_ with you,” Thror sneered. Thorin tensed and I glared at him.

“There is nothing wrong with my son,” Clarissa said before he could go on.

Thrain stared at us, his expression unreadable as the argument broke out, swiftly switching to Italian as Thror yelled at Clarissa. Dis and Frerin came to their defense as well and Inez broke down in tears.

“What’s going on?” Fili asked, coming down the stairs. For the most part, he was ignored, but he spotted Thorin and I still sitting as the fight raged on in our defense. He snuck by. “Uncle Thorin, did you come out?” Thorin nodded and Fili grinned. He embraced us. “Can’t wait to tell Kili,” he said.

Thorin hugs him back, taking a shaky breath.

“Well, at least I finally understand those books you wrote,” Thrain said. The room silenced as he stood and approached us. Thorin set Fili down and stood. “I had…hoped you were just radically progressive, but I think I had suspected you were homosexual. But your mother’s right. It changes nothing. I think I’ll need a little time to get used to the…idea, but you’re still my son and that will never change.”

Thror threw his hands up, bellowed something nasty in Italian—given from the dark looks his grandchildren send him, and fled the room with Inez behind him.

It would probably be comical if the situation wasn’t so tense. Thorin exhaled. “Thanks, Dad.” Thrain cupped the back of his neck and gently headbutted him.

It really could’ve been much worse.

After that, we retreated to our room and I joined Thorin in his. I don’t think he should be alone tonight.

“I think we should leave,” Thorin said. “Tomorrow.”

“Why? I mean, it’s just your grandparents.”

“I sometimes forget you don’t understand Italian. My Dad might be on his way to accepting, but my grandparents won’t. You don’t need to know what they said, but it’s not in our best interest to stay here any longer.”

I dragged my fingers through his hair. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll call Mom tomorrow.”

Thorin sighed. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“Like I said, you’ve had extraordinary luck coming out to your family. It was guaranteed that someone you know would have a hard time accepting it.” I kiss his forehead. “I love you, Thorin.”

He pulled me a little closer, hiding his face in my chest. “I love you, too.”

#

Mom showed us one of the guest rooms. “All right, boys, here you are. Just remember to keep it down.”

“Mom!” I snapped, mortified. She just patted my cheek.

“Remember that your grandparents are coming over for dinner tonight. This is tame.”

“I know, Mom.” She walked back to the kitchen and Thorin followed me inside.

“Your mother’s quite…”

“I know,” I said, setting my suitcase down. “But compared to my grandparents, she really is pretty tame. Be careful of my grandmother, though. She might try to feel you up.”

Okay, she wasn’t _that_ bad, but the terrified look on his face is enough to make me laugh.

“You’re joking.”

“I wish. Last time I saw them, Nori was with me and they asked me if I was in a triad with him and Bofur. I told them I wasn’t and they said that there was nothing wrong with being in a triad. Now I’ve nothing against polyamorous relationships, _but_ I’ve always been and always will be the monogamous sort.”

“Lucky for me.”

“Just be prepared they may be inappropriate with you. Mom _will_ try to reign them in, but just be ready for that. For all I know, their best friend might come with them.”

“And that’s worse?”

“This guy is a former detective and now does PI work on the side—he’s the one who found Beorn, by the way—and back when he was still a detective, he once almost set Central Park on fire.”

“Your grandparents best friend is Gandalf?”

“You know Gandalf?”

“Yeah, he used to go to St. Patrick’s on Sundays, but left when it got a bit too conservative for his liking. He said something about ‘brainwashing the attendees.’ In fact, he encouraged me to go there because he thought I’d put some _sense_ back into the faith, at least there.”

“Did you?”

“Not sure,” Thorin said, setting his case under the bed. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, whether he is here or not, you have been warned,” I said, locking my arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “If not noticed by now, I’m the normal one out of my maternal relatives.”

“I’ve only ever met your mother.”

I shrugged and released him, heading for the kitchen to help Mom with whatever she planned to make for dinner.

Apparently, we’re just having hamburgers for dinner. Nothing fancy, but she decided to have me make a Caesar salad, _sans_ chicken, and asked Thorin if he knew how to make corn on the cob. He glanced at me and I shrugged. I did like making him fancier things to eat and he’s never complained so far.

Besides, it’s good to make something generic once in a while, I suppose.

“So,” she said. “You’re being stalked?”

I sigh, setting the parmesan down. “I told you as much last night.”

“Any leads?”

“Dori’s on it.”

She scoffed. “I like Nori’s brother, he’s a good man, but when it comes to this sort of thing, Gandalf was always more efficient.”

“He’s doing the best he can.”

“And you know Gandalf can do better.”

“The last time I had someone following me around and being a creep, Gandalf approached him. I know the old man can take care of himself pretty well, Mom, but this is more dangerous than the last guy.”

“Who you’re now buddies with and he still has a crush on you,” Thorin pointed out rotating the corn on the skillet. Mom sets her hands on her hips and frowns at me.

“Mom, it was a misunderstanding. We’re past all that. And Beorn’s over it.”

“Please,” Thorin scoffed. “He may as well be praying that our relationship falls apart.”

“Bilbo why does this always happen to you?” Mom asked.

“I don’t know!” I said.

She hummed. “You must be too pretty.”

“I’m not pretty.”

“You kind of are,” Thorin said. I’d glare at him, but being thought pretty by your boyfriend’s usually a good thing. In this case, I’m conflicted.

“Find any good places in Albany?”

“Yes,” Thorin said.

“Maybe,” I said. We looked at each other. This didn’t sound good.

Mom sighed.

“Relax, boys, you’ll find a place. Just don’t be so picky. Bungo and I lived in a shabby flat in Jersey after we got married. We stayed there till Bilbo was about two.”

The bell rang and I decided to let my grandparents in. Best to suffer through Nana’s hugs and cheek pinching now rather than wait till later…

I shook Granddad’s hand, trying not to break it while he and Nana shuffled in. Gandalf behind them, cane in hand. As predicted, Nana took an instant shine to Thorin, who wouldn’t stop blushing as she felt his arms.

“Nana, don’t tease!” I pleaded. Mom was hiding a laugh.

“Well, Thorin, I didn’t expect to find you here,” Gandalf said, shaking his hand.

“You never mentioned knowing Bilbo.”

“You never asked.”

“Why would he ask?” I questioned, closing the door. “We didn’t meet because of you.”

“I don’t see how that is relevant,” Gandalf said, smirking. Thorin rolled his eyes and decided to go back to cooking the corn.

“And I thought Dwalin was a catch,” Granddad said. I see Thorin’s ears turn red.

Yep, asking them to behave is too much.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I didn't change much if you read this chapter last week (likely you did). I just added some more to the end of it. 
> 
> And thanks, guys, for the reviews last week. I normally would not ask, but I hadn't gotten reviews in a while, so I was feeling a bit discouraged. 
> 
> And I got a new computer!!! :D *happy dancing*
> 
> I may post another chapter today, but if not, well, know that's because of all the other things I need to do and that I'm remaking the plot map for this story.

Dinner could've gone so much better if my grandparents would leave Thorin alone. Nana wouldn't stop flirting with him, more to make him blush than to make my grandfather jealous, while Grandpa and Gandalf asked personal questions that are better left unsaid. I swear, my family does this just to annoy me. Mom wasn't much help at reining them in--she was trying not to laugh too much to be of real help.

After dinner, we had dessert (chocolate cake and peppermint tea), discussing gossip and politics (uncomfortable as that was for both of us. Thorin took it in stride, though). Once we bade them goodbye, Thorin and I helped Mom clear the table and brought everything to the kitchen.

"That could've gone better," I said, washing off excess condiments in the sink before putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

"Well, what else would you expect from them?" Mom asked.

"Maybe for them to behave?" I asked, glancing at Thorin, who shrugged.

"Well, think of it this way, Bilbo: at least your grandmother didn't feel Thorin up?"

"She felt enough," I muttered. Thorin furrowed his brow and I explained briefly about the first time she met Dwalin. She had taken the liberty to squeeze his bum.

"She did that?" Thorin asked, appalled. I shrugged.

"At least that didn't happen this time," I said. "It really could've been worse."

"True, but at least your grandparents accept you for who you are."

I'd like to say his grandparents would come around, but really, I have doubts about that. So I don't say anything. Thorin boxed the last of the mashed potatoes and we loaded the last of the dishes in the washer.

"So, now what?" Mom asked. "Going out?"

"Not tonight," I said. "At least I don't think so." I look at Thorin, who shakes his head.

"What about tomorrow?"

I narrow my eyes at her. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing! Well, maybe introducing Thorin to the girls."

"You mean show him off," I said. Mom shrugged. "Mom we're not trained monkeys you can show off to your friends!"

"I know, Dear."

"Do you?!"

"Bilbo," Thorin said, grabbing my shoulders. "Deep breath, sweetheart." I lean against him, still glaring at Mom. Really, she's overstepping when it comes to Thorin. I l know he's gorgeous, but there's a limit to what is and is not appropriate. Her friends will eat him alive if they can.

"Relax, honey," she said. "They won't bite."

I'm about to retaliate when my phone rings. I pull out of Thorin's embrace to answer it.

"You do that because it’s fun to rile him, don't you?" Thorin asked.

"Thorin, dear, you've not  _seen_  riled yet. One time..."

I head to the bedroom. I'd rather not know what she's telling Thorin. He'll likely find these things out eventually. Might as well let him find out now.

"Hello?"

" _Bilbo, it's Dori. Can you come down to the station today or tomorrow morning?_ "

"Possibly tomorrow morning," I said. "Why? Did you catch him?"

" _Not exactly_ ," Dori said. " _We got prints_." I move the phone from my ear and punch the air.

"Who is it?"

" _Well, that's why we need you to come down,_ " Dori said. " _Honestly, I don't know what to make of this, Bill. It's...unsettling._ "

"Define unsettling," I said, sitting down.

" _Unsettling as in impossible._ " My mind goes instantly to Sauron. Fuck, if he's still alive...would he dare? " _We're looking into it now, but I'd really rather tell you this in person. You know?_ "

"Yes, I understand. I'll see you in the morning, Dori, but I don't know if I'm going to be able to sleep tonight so thanks for that."

" _Sorry. Are you somewhere safe at least_?"

"I'm with Thorin...and my mom, but I'm not sure if that counts as safe."

" _Your mother's a tough lady. I think you'll be fine with her. See you tomorrow._ "

"Right. Tomorrow."

He hung up and I let my hand drop from my ear, still holding my phone. Impossible. Sauron. Or, and while not comforting, Smeagol. I set my phone down and lean on my knees with my head cradled in my hands.

"Bilbo?" Thorin called. He knocked twice before entering. "Who was it?"

"Dori."

"They caught the guy?"

"No. But they know who it is. He wants me to come down tomorrow morning. Thorin, he said this guy...it was impossible. Do you think it might be Sauron?"

"No," Thorin said, sitting beside me. "I...when you started getting stalked again, I thought it might be even though Dori verified that he was dead. I wanted to be sure, so I did a little...investigating of my own. He really is dead. Whoever is after you, I promise, love, he's not a zombie."

I smile. It's not very comforting, but it's comforting enough.

He embraces me. "We'll find him, Bilbo. And we'll stop him. I know we will and I know we'll get through this." He kissed my forehead. "I love you. Even if you do get so mad that you break your mother's best china."

"That was a long time ago!" I snapped. "I wouldn't do it now and I've not been that irrationally angry since I was twenty!"

"Yeah, I'm not convinced. You get pretty scary when you're mad, sweetie." I groan. One of these days, I swear this family is going to be the death of me.

#

“It’s possible his appearance changed since you last saw him,” Dori said. “So we’ll be doing a facial composite with the help of a previous photograph.”

“Dori, you haven’t even told me who the prints belong to,” I remind him, leaning on his desk. Thorin was talking to another officer. I wasn’t sure what about. Currently, I'm a bit preoccupied with learning my stalker's identity. Dori sighed and pushed a file to me.

“The picture’s a few bit old, but like I said we can tweak it so to find him.”

I open the file and shivers trail up my spine. “You’re sure it’s him?”

“Prints don’t lie, Bilbo. You know that. From the security photos we’ve got so far, we know he dyed his hair, probably to blend in or disguise himself.”

I stared at Sméagol’s photo. I don’t want to believe it. Sméagol should be in prison for what he did to Dee. “He went to a supermax," I remind Dori. "How does someone break out of a supermax and no one notices?”

“Smart ones with nothing to lose,” Dori said. “Is he smart?”

I shake my head. “Honestly, I think he’s cunning, ambitious, but smart enough for this? I wouldn’t know.”

“Does he have anything against you?”

“Other than that he was— _is_ obsessed with me. I don’t know why he is or what I did to make him this…”

“Volatile?” Dori asked.

“I guess. I mean, you were there.”

“I was one of the responding officers,” he said. “I know what he did to his cousin. What I don’t know is why he’s still obsessed with you. Will he hurt you?”

“I don’t know. Beyond doing what he can to scare me, the only thing I know for sure is that he could and probably would hurt Thorin.” I looked at Sméagol’s file again. I bit the inside of my cheek. “Dori, please do what you can to stop him.”

“Do you think he’s sick?”

I click my tongue. “I don’t know. He could be, but the way he acts…honestly, I have no way of telling.”

Dori hummed. “We’ll catch him before it escalates any more, Bilbo.”

I nodded. Honestly, I don’t know what else I can do _but_ nod. “If Sméagol’s out of prison then who is in his cell?” I ask.

“A friend of his,” Dori said. “Someone stupid enough to think he’s helping him out, I guess, and probably similar enough in appearance to fool the guards.”

“Okay.”

“Bilbo, we’ll stop him. I promise. I know it’s not much, but I promise you that.”

I know that Dori will do his best and I wish I could say it puts my mind at ease, but it doesn’t. I thanked him and approached Thorin. “Is everything all right?” he asked. “Did they catch him?”

“No,” I said. “It’s not all right and they don’t have him yet, but we know who it is.”

I filled him in on the way to lunch, though I’m not really hungry right now. Thorin wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek.

“You’ll be careful, right?” I asked.

Thorin grunted and I pulled away, looking at him.

“Thorin, I’m serious. This guy killed someone I loved because he thinks he’s in love with me. I’m not going to see that happen to someone else I love.”

“Bilbo, we take risks every day. That isn’t going to change just because there’s higher stakes. I can worry all I want about Smaug and you about your stalker, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter.”

I groaned. “I know you have faith in something far more frightening and more powerful than anything on earth, but I don’t. You might not be afraid, but I am—”

“Of course I’m afraid, but where will fear get anyone? What has it ever done? I’m afraid for you. I’m afraid for my family, but I’m not going to let my fear rule me just because some asshole is after you. I’m not scared for my life—let me finish.” I huffed and closed my mouth. “I am scared that this guy will hurt you again, but I’m not going to let that happen. Besides, I can’t afford to be scared. I have no reason to be no matter what the situation. I could recite verse after verse, Bilbo, but there are way too many, so how about one: Mathew 10:26, ‘ _therefore do not fear them for there is nothing covered that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known_.’ Smaug, Sméagol…they won’t win.”

“You don’t know that!”

“No, but I have to believe it, otherwise, my faith is useless. Bilbo, you are strong and you are brave. That won’t change because that is who you are. Look at what you faced! Even now, you are very strong. I love you, and I am not going to leave or hide because of what we’re going through. Fear only has power over you if you let it. Don’t let it. I will trust in God. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. But please, at the very least, trust me.”

I crossed my arms and sighed. “It’s not like I have a choice. I can’t let my world fall apart just because Sméagol’s after me.”

Thorin embraced me and kissed the top of my head. “Exactly,” he said.

“I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you don’t collapse under the weight.”

“Because I don’t have to do it alone and I’m doing it alone.” After that, we went to lunch. It’s weird how normal everything can seem when it’s not.


	11. Chapter 11

“ _Thanks for picking them up_ ,” Dis said. The crosswalk sign turns into a white stick figure in movement and I step onto the street, trying not to be jostled by other pedestrians. “ _This meeting’s getting ridiculously out of hand_.”

“I’m sure it is,” I tell her. “And I don’t mind picking up the boys from school. Only…what about your grandparents?”

“ _They can bitch all they like_ ,” Dis said. “ _Thorin trusts you, so I trust you. Besides, the boys love you. Kili’s been asking when he’ll see you again._ ” I arrive at the school, looking for the boys. There’s a circle forming in the courtyard and I spy a boy who looks suspiciously like Fili trying to push another kid to the ground. Kili jumps on Fili’s opponent’s back.

“Dis, I got to go.”

“ _Why? What’s wrong?_ ”

“I’ll fill you in when I know,” I said, hanging up. Where were the teachers when you needed them? I swear to God, some teachers are fucking useless! I push through the crowd and grab Kili around the waist. “Fili!” I shouted, seizing his coat and pulling him back. “What is going on here?”

“They were bullying Deck.”

Deck? “Who’s Deck?” I asked, looking around. Deqan is sporting a split lip and a bloody nose.

I pull them out of the crowd and toward the school gates. Deqan rubs his nose, spreading blood on his hand. A teacher rushes out, puffing for air.

“Who are you?” he growled. I hold my hands up.

“Whoa, calm down. I’m a friend of the kids.”

“He is, Mr. McBorin,” Fili said. “He knows Mr. Fundinson and our parents.”

“Look, you can call their mom and Balin if you like, we’ll go in with you,” I told him.

“What happened to Deqan’s nose?”

“Fight,” I said. “Which is why I pulled the three of them out. And I’d like to know what the staff here is doing when they’re not monitoring students to make sure there’s no bullying or fighting.”

“We handle things our own way,” McBorin said, leading us inside.

“Is that code for allowing a student to be bullied because he’s not Christian?” I challenge quietly. McBorin glowers at me. “Don’t test me,” I sneered. “I grew up in schools like this. They take pride in shoving their beliefs down a kid’s throat like it’s their right to decide for them or make them into brainwashed soldiers for the sake of a dogmatic religion that is supposed to be a personal relationship but they all focus more on the dogma and the rules laid out in a fucking book more than what the real message behind it is.”

He nods. “You’ve been reading Father Durin’s…stuff, have you?”

Actually I’ve not. I’ve seen them, but something always kept me at bay from it. But now that I think about it, it does sound similar to something Thorin might say. I don’t know how to answer that. If Dequan is being bullied because he’s Muslim or Afghanistani, what would the kids here do to Fili and Kili for having a gay uncle?

“He’s dating our uncle,” Kili announces.

McBorin wrinkles his nose at me, but says nothing on the subject. “Call their families if you want. Their mother asked me to pick them up and I’m willing to stay with Dequan until his guardian shows up.”

He enters the office and dials a number on the landline. He has a short conversation with the person on the other line—Dis, I think—sighed, and hung up. He threw a hand up. “Fine, do what you want.”

“Really?” I deadpanned. God, what a bunch of fucking assholes.

He waved me off, deciding it better to ignore me. See, this is why I don’t get Christians—Thorin and his family aside—they’re rude, egotistical…forget the homophobia. Too many of them are all around bad people and it pisses the hell out of me.

Still, I lead the boys to the bathroom and instructed Deqan to wash the blood off his face and hands. Kili went with him. Fili crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.

“Okay,” I said. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Dequan has a hard time here. Not just because he doesn’t speak English very well—and he’s getting better all the time, really—but because of his own faith. I don’t think he tells his guardian about it. Or maybe he doesn’t listen. But Kili’s the only one here who decided to be his friend. Kili’s outgoing like that and he’s curious. He doesn’t buy the whole ‘all other religions are evil’ thing, so he and Dequan became friends last year. And because of that, Kili’s bullied too. It wasn’t this bad before.”

“Still, fighting won’t solve anything. Violence only begets violence.”

“I know,” Fili said. “But I don’t know what else to do, Bilbo. Dequan’s Kili’s friend and Kili’s my brother. I can’t just do nothing! The teachers don’t care!”

I shuffle my feet. “Hey, I’m not saying not to do something about it, but try to walk away. Grab your brother and Dequan and just walk away.”

“It’s cowardly.”

“Fili, it’s the only thing you can do. Fighting your enemies, like these bullies that are hurting you, Kili and Dequan, shows that they’ve gotten under your skin. And you can’t let them know that.”

He wiped at his eyes and turned his face away from me.

I sighed. “Kid, I know about bullying. I still have to deal with it today and I’m an adult. It’s not easy to walk away and pretend that it doesn’t hurt because it does and it sticks with you. What hurts more is letting it fester. Every word, every push, every harassment is aiming to get under your skin and get a reaction and you _cannot_ let it. It’s like a wound and wounds can go two ways. The first is infection. It festers, it doesn’t heal, and it eventually kills you by eating you alive. The second is that it scars, meaning it’s treated and it won’t get infected—it heals. It’s not gone, but you’re tougher. You’re stronger. Fili, if you know someone is being bullied you need to report it, you need to stand by the victim any way you can. Fighting is only ever going to be destructive. Especially in this case. I know it’s tempting to settle things with your fists, but that’s not the right way to go about it.”

“I can’t do anything right,” Fili said. I embraced him.

“That is not true,” I said. “You’re strong, Fili, and you have a big heart. You know what’s right and what’s wrong and you’re not afraid to do the right thing.”

“I just go about it the wrong way.”

“You’re young. You’re going to make mistakes and no one is going to blame you for that, Kid.” The door opened and the other two boys stepped out. I released Fili, who wiped his tears on his coat sleeve. “We good?”

“Where’s Balin?” Dequan asked.

“I’m sure he’s coming if he’s not here already,” I said, leading the boys outside to the school’s gates. Parents are already flocking the school, seeking out their children. Balin is checking his watch by the gate and we head over to him. He arches a brow at me.

“Bilbo?”

“Good to see you too, Balin,” I said. Dequan dutifully goes to his side, fumbling with his backpack strap.

“Pardon me for asking, but why are you here?”

“Dis asked me to pick up her boys,” I said.

“Dis? Do you mean Desdemona? As in Thorin’s sister?”

I blink. “I didn’t know that her full name was Desdemona,” I said.

“And you’ll never tell her that you know,” Kili said.

“And never call her Desdemona to her face if you want to live,” Fili added.

I should be scared, but I’m more curious to see what would happen if I did call Dis by her full name. I probably would die a slow, painful death and no one would ever find my body.

Hey, I think I got a…

Never mind.

That’d be a crappy novel.

“Yes, Thorin’s sister,” I said.

“I wasn’t aware you were friends with Thorin’s family.”

“He’s actually going to be our new uncle someday,” Kili said. _Damn it, Kid, shut up!_ “Considering everything goes right.”

“Frerin? But he’s straight.”

“Thorin,” I corrected. “I’m dating Thorin.”

“That explains why he handed the collar back, I suppose.”

 _God, this is not going well. Too awkward._ “We should go.”

Fili nodded. “Right.”

“See you tomorrow, Dequan,” Kili said. Dequan nodded and I led the boys away.

“That was awkward,” Fili said.

“Why?” Kili asked.

“Balin’s late-brother is Thorin’s ex-best friend who is also my late-boyfriend before Thorin.”

“Huh?” Kili asked, confused. Fili cleared his throat.

“He means that he dated Balin’s brother, who died, and then he met Thorin later. Right?”

“Exactly,” I said.

On the way home, we stop at a café to get hot chocolate (a mocha for me, however). The boys take a seat by the window while I get the drinks, jokingly calling me Alfred (They’re watching _Gotham_ , I know it. Not that I care. I like it, though the violence in it worries me if they’re watching it). It makes me want to be a little bit sassy with them, but I’ll leave their daily dose of sass to their mother.

A man steps behind me. While I don’t look around, he feels uncomfortably close.

“I wondered when I’d see you again.”

I turn to him. “Smaug.” _Fucking shit!_ I turned away from him. “Can’t even get a coffee without harassing an innocent bystander?”

“Only you,” he said.

“Oh, lucky me.”

“Very lucky,” he said. “I’d like to talk.”

“To bad for you. I don’t.”

“It’s about your boytoy and his family,” he said. I glare at him and he smirks. “I’ll fix it. Give them back their money, get the IRS off their back, even call off social services.”

“There’s an if,” I said.

“Most definitely,” he said. “Leave Durin and go out with me. I certainly can afford more than an ex-priest. You’ll want for nothing.”

I stuff my fists in my hands, pushing down my fury as I approach the Barista. “Two short hot chocolates and a medium mocha,” I say, Smaug lays down a twenty dollar bill before I can open my wallet.

“Think about it,” he said, handing me another one of his cards. “And give me a call when you’ve made your decision.” Smaug looked at the Barista and grinned winsomely at her, “Just a short coffee for me, thanks sweetheart.”

The Barista took the orders and I went to the counter to wait for the kids’ drinks, texting Dori and Bard.


	12. Chapter 12

“Did he touch you?”

“No,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Dori, he didn’t. He told me the terms and paid for the drinks and left. That’s it. I called you and Bard right after then took the kids home.”

Dori drummed his fingers against his desk. “All right,” he said. “I’ll let Bard know. Be careful, Bilbo.”

I don’t respond, staring at one of the photo frames of Dori and his brothers. _Be careful_ , he says. I’m plenty careful. I don’t do anything that should get any unwanted attention. It is not, in any way, my fault that Smaug and Sméagol have decided to come after me.

Bard stepped in. “So, I’ve spoken with my captain and we _may_ have come up with a plan. But we need you’re permission and cooperation. And most likely you’re going to hate it.”

“What do you mean by I’m ‘going to hate it’?”

Bard cleared his throat and sat down across from me. “We don’t have sufficient evidence to arrest him, but a confession would do wonders. If you agree to meet him to discuss his proposal some more, he’ll think you’re thinking about it and agree to meet with you. If we get him to confess to one con, we can get a green light to find evidence of others.”

“But you need me to agree to this.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” he said. “But don’t take too much time.”

“Using me as bait…what is this? _Phantom of the Opera_?” I snapped.

“Bilbo, he wants you, and he’s offered you a deal we could really use to our advantage. We’d not only save your boyfriend’s family’s business, we could help a lot of people who lost everything because of Smaug. But we do need your help. You will be protected.”

“You want me to wear a wire.”

"Trust me, wires are easy to disguise,” Bard said. “The cops, not so much. That’s on our end and we’ll do our best to blend in.”

I lean on the table, closing my eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Like I said, you can think on it for as long as you like. But if we succeed…”

“I know. You’re very optimistic.”

“I never took you for a pessimist.”

“I’m a realist. I prefer to be objective in situations like this. And I see how in so many ways this could go wrong.”

Bard nodded. “It could. But please have faith in us.”

Faith? I don’t like that word. It’s the act of trusting without knowing if you _can_ trust and too many people operate on faith. And given who we’re up against, and given what Smaug did to me—whether I remember it or not—I need more than faith.

“I need assurance nothing will go wrong.”

“We’ll do our best, but we’re not perfect.” He stood. “Think on it. Give me a call when you’ve made your decision. And no matter what you decide, Bilbo, NYPD will support it.”

I stand. “I hope so.”

#

“On the one, you should do it,” Nori said. “And on the other, it is _very_ risky.”

“But do the risks outweigh the result?” Bofur snapped.

I stirred my cup of tea, watching the loose leaves swirling. It’s not the first time they’ve been on opposing sides. Marriage isn’t going to change that. I do wish they’d shut up though and help _me_ decide what to do. Thorin sat across from me, face hidden behind his hand, elbows pressed into the table.

He’s not said anything since I told him and my friends about Smaug’s offer and I wish he’d say something.

“I’m not saying he should do it or not,” Nori snapped back. “I just think we should be logical about it.”

They continue their argument and I look up at Thorin. Still nothing from him and I don’t think there’s going to be anything for a while.

“Thorin, you know I don’t want to do this, right?”

He lowered his hand. “I know. But you need to.” Nori and Bofur shut up and looked at us. Thorin looked at me. “If it stops him, good, and at the very least we can save my family and who knows how many others. Now don’t get me wrong: I _don’t_ like than Bard is going to dangle you on a hook. But he played a card and gave us an opening. We need to take it because it might be our only real chance to stop him.”

I looked at my tea again. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Bilbo, I’ll be there too, I promise. Hiding, but there,” he said, taking my hand. “We can stop him and we need to stop him. I don’t know why he fixated on you. We all know it’s not because he’s in love with you. For all we know, he might just want to hurt me and knows you leaving me will hurt us both. I will be there when you meet with him. We could save a lot of people if we put him away.”

I sighed. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough. But I’m definitely afraid.”

“Bravery is born from fear. Courage isn’t defined by the absence of fear. Courage is being afraid and doing the right thing anyway. Hundreds of people take courage every day and survive. Try not to focus on things going wrong.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “I hate this.”

“So do I.”

“If something goes wrong—”

“If anything goes wrong, we’ll deal with it. We’ll get through it. Okay? I love you, Bilbo, and I know this is asking a lot, but trust me and trust Bard. We _will_ do our best to make sure you’re safe.”

“All right,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to do this, but I’ll do it. And if something goes wrong, I’ll kick your ass.”

Thorin smiled and kissed my hand.

Nori shook his head. “You’re sending him to the slaughter house,” he muttered.

“No I’m not,” Thorin said. “I’d rather send myself to the slaughter house. Until you’ve dealt with something you can’t explain—and trust me, I have been there and I’m not even going to bother explaining—you don’t know the slaughterhouse.”

“Will you at least tell me?” I asked. Thorin hummed.

“You’d think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

“Later,” he said.

#

“Okay,” Bard said, turning on the big black box that would trace the call.

I dialed Smaug’s number and pressed my phone to my ear. Thorin avoided looking at me. I don’t blame him. I feel gross just doing this.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Smaug? It’s Bilbo.”

“ _Bilbo, good to hear your voice,_ ” he said. I felt chills crawl up my spine. Not the good kind either. “ _Have you thought about my offer?_ ”

“I have. Can we meet somewhere? I just…I’d like to make sure we’re on the same page and if so, then…”

“ _How about that café you took Thorin’s nephews to,_ ” he suggested. “ _You might feel better in a public place_.”

“I didn’t think you’d care for what made me comfortable or not.”

“ _I can be considerate. I can be there in an hour._ ”

I look at Bard, who handed me a slip of paper. _Accept_ , it read. “I’ll see you then,” I told Smaug. Bard sent me a thumb’s up. “Bye.”

“ _Goodbye_.” He hung up and I lowered my phone.

“This better work,” I muttered.

“We’ll make it work,” Bard promised. “Which café.”

“It’s the one near Fili and Kili’s school, um…”

“Sacred Heart of Jesus,” Thorin told Bard. “There’s a Starbucks about five minutes away.”

“It wasn’t Starbucks,” I said, wrinkling my nose. Starbucks is okay, but it’s not my preference. “It started with a K, or something…”

“Mosaic sign out front?” Thorin asked. “Bit neuve arte in a way?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Kahve,” he said. “I don’t like how close that is to the school.”

“Neither do I,” Bard said. “But we’ve only a few minutes to set up. Bilbo, let’s get that wire on you.”

I followed him. It resembles a microphone—black box that hooks to the back of your pants or belt, a wire that is concealed under your clothes, and a small bud to catch sound. We hid it in my coat, clipped to my shirtsleeve under the coat.

“Okay, we’ll meet you there,” Bard said. “An officer will follow you on the subway to make sure you get to Kahve safely, but pretend you don’t know where he is. Try to act as naturally as you can.”

My heart is hammering like a jackhammer and it’s difficult to breathe. Thorin embraced and kissed me, hands shaking as they held my shoulders.

“Be safe.”

“I’ll try,” I said, cupping his cheek in my hand and stroking the short hairs of his beard. “I love you.” Thorin kissed my wrist.

“Bilbo, one more thing,” Bard said, handing me a clear colored ear piece. “I take it, examining the plastic. You’ll be able to hear us with this.”

 “Won’t Smaug see it?” I asked. Bard shook his head and helped me put it in.

“He won’t notice anything unless you fuss with it. So try not to.”

“Okay,” I said. It’ll be harder than I thought. It felt way too foreign and I pray that I never go deaf. I’m not sure I’d like hearing aids. I left the station, heading to the subway.

 _Act natural_ , they said. _Don’t draw attention_ , they said. I’m about to meet a con man who’s threatening to ruin my lover’s family if I don’t dump him. I wonder if my nerves can be any more jittery. I take a breath and dip my head between my legs. 

I’m terrified.

“ _Bilbo?_ ” Thorin’s voice echoed in my ear. “ _You’ll be okay._ ”

I wish I could answer, but then I’d probably look a little weird. I sit up and blinked, focusing on breathing. My stomach lurched and I felt faint.

Still, I forced my legs to move solidly under me, hoping that I don’t give myself away once I enter the café. Smaug sat at a couch, reading a magazine. I approached him.

“Smaug?”

He looked up and grinned. “Take a seat.” I do so, thankful that the earpiece is in the opposite ear.

“ _Get him, Bilbo._ ”

Easier said than done.

“So I’ve thought about your offer and I just want to be clear on a few things before I make a definite decision.”

“That’s fine.”

I take a breath. “If I do this, will you really let Thorin’s family go? You will save their bank?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic violence, maybe? It doesn't seem that graphic to me, but I've been writing violent scenes for a very long time, so...just a head's up if blood and gore triggers you somehow.
> 
> Also, sex scene here. If you'd rather skip that, you can from ~~~ to ~~~

Smaug grinned and reached for my hand, stroking the pad of his thumb on my skin. I want to vomit, but I swallow instead. I hope I don’t look as sick as I feel. “Of course I’ll let them go. I’ll give them their money back and halt the investigations currently assaulting them. Would that please you?”

“Yes,” I said. “But all this only for one family?”

“It is. It’s a good deal, Bilbo. Don’t you agree?” His grip on my hand tightened and he leaned in.

“I suppose so,” I said. “But it’s a lot to consider.” Smaug hummed. “If I asked, would you stop? You must have conned many people already.”

“That is not part of the deal, Bilbo,” Smaug said. I clench my fist. God I want to punch him so bad!

But it is while I resist stating a fight that the police come in and surround us. “Smaug Azugâl,” Bard said. “You’re under arrest for fraud—”

Smaug gripped my shoulder and pressed the barrel of a gun to my head.

“Bilbo!” Thorin shouted, pushing through. Two officers stopped him. “Smaug, you—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he growled, standing. He dragged me up with him and wrapped his arm around my neck. He raised the gun and fired three shots before dragging me into the alley. He grabbed my hair and yanked it. “That was a stupid move. Come on.” He let me go and shoved me in front of him, pressing the gun against my spine.

“It’s not my fault you gave me an opportunity to try and stop you,” I said. “Besides, I don’t know why you’re interested in me. You don’t love me and I’m not valuable to you.”

“But you are valuable to Thorin Durin,” Smaug said, “And that is enough.”

“In that case, were you even _going_ to do what you promised?”

“And I should tell you?” he asked, shoving me against a wall. My head hit the bricks and I winced from the pain. “You’re wearing a wire and an ear piece!” He ripped the bud out of my ear. “I’m not as dumb as you think I am—”

“Dumb enough,” I sneered.

He raised the gun, aiming to strike me with it when some man in a black trench coat tackled him to the ground. I don’t stay to thank him, running back to the cops.

“Bard!” I shouted. “This way!”

Two gunshots echoed and I felt cold. Bard and his team ran toward Smaug. I followed, unsure what I would find. The man who helped me was gone, so was Smaug’s gun. But Smaug laid on his back with two gunshots to his head. One had gone through his eye and the other his brain.

I felt faint and leaned against the wall, watching them work. Bard barked orders that I heard but didn’t register. How could I?

An officer looked at me and led me back inside. A blanket offered to me while they test me for gun residue and asking me what happened.

“I didn’t see his face,” I said. “He just came out of nowhere and attacked Smaug. I ran back here for you,” I said. My hands are shaking. Thorin was finally allowed to come to me and he embraced me, kissing my temple and whispering something in Latin. A prayer, I guess.

“Bilbo, would you mind providing some DNA? So that we can separate yours from Smaug’s and the perpetrator’s?” Bard asked.

“For God’s sake, must we do this now?!” Thorin demanded.

“Let’s get it over with,” I said, letting one of the forensic analysts swab the inside of my cheek. After she left, I looked at Bard. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” he said. “Go home. Get some rest.”

I nod, fumbling with the wire and giving it back to him before handing the blanket back. Thorin’s arm is wrapped protectively around my shoulder and I lean against him.

“You are _not_ doing anything like that again.”

“I didn’t pull a trigger.”

“I wasn’t talking about what happened in the alley. I believe you and I’m sure they do to. I meant about the whole ordeal.”

I nod, laying my head on his shoulder. “You think…the man who killed Smaug…you think it might’ve been Sméagol? I didn’t get a good look at his face, but—”

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Thorin said. “If it is Sméagol then this isn’t over. If it isn’t, I’ll thank him and offer him absolution. He saved you, so while I wish it ended differently, but there’s little we can do about it now.”

I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think of anything right now. Seeing Smaug’s body, bleeding in the alley…all I remember is what happened to Deagol.

I don’t want that to happen to anyone else, no matter how deserving.

#

_I open the door and turn the light on. A man stood over a body, raising a knife dripping blood up and down._

_“Mine!” he hissed. “He’s mine! My precious! Not yours! He’s **mine**!!”_

_“What the hell are you doing?!” I screamed. He turned around. Sméagol stared at me, wide eyed. Blood covered his hands and face. It drenched his clothes. And beneath him, lying dead, eyes blank, was…_

_Thorin—_

I screamed, sitting up in bed.

Thorin turned on the light and grabbed my shoulders. He’s alive, unscarred, and hale. “Bilbo, it was nightmare,” he said, “Just a nightmare.” I grasped for breath, holding Thorin tightly. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

“Nothing is okay,” I said, pressing my face to his shirt. He rubbed my back. “I thought I was done dreaming it. When…when Dee died, I had nightmares about his murder for months. It was hard to sleep because of it and I just _wanted_ them to go away. They did.”

“And now it’s back.”

I nod. “It was you,” I said. “Tonight it was you I saw him kill.” Thorin kissed the top of my head. “I couldn’t do anything—” He shushed me and kissed my forehead.

“I’m right here,” he said. “I’m here, Bilbo.” I pressed my mouth to his, running my hand through his hair and pulling him down. “Bilbo?”

“Please, I need you,” I whispered, moving my hands over his torso and slipping them under his shirt. “Thorin, please.”

~~~

He stared at me as though trying to decide if this was a good idea or not. I was about to give up, hurt, when he moved his hands to my pants, fingers curling under the elastic band and pulling them down my legs. I removed his shirt before taking off my own while he removed his pants. I reached for the lube and some condoms, putting them close in reach.

Thorin presses kisses to my skin, sucking on a nipple while his fingers played with the other. His free hand drew down from my ribs to my hips, gentle and sensuous, then back up. He moved down my chest, pressing kisses to my stomach and pelvis as his hands moved over my legs and between my thighs, pushing them apart.

I gasped when he moved further down between my legs and gripped the base of my cock. He dragged it over his mouth, puffing air over the head before licking over the slit. I closed my eyes and gripped the sheets. Thorin closed his lips around my penis, one hand still holding it in place while the other massaged my scrotum.

I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice locked in my throat. Thorin sucked around me, tongue swirling around my head and swiping over the slit. He squeezed my sack and hummed. I could feel the heat building, coiling tighter than a spring till it released.

My back arched off the bed and I choked back a cry as Thorin swallowed my seed while I came down from the high. The hand that groped my scrotum trailed down the perineum to my ass.

“Lube,” I reminded him.

“Hand it to me.”

I did so and his hand pulled away. Thorin squeezed a couple drops into his hands and spread the liquid over his skin before daring to insert one finger, pumping in and out of me, stretching the muscle around the appendage until he was certain he could add another.

My toes curled and my nails were doing their best to rip through the fabric underneath me. Thorin pressed his lips to my jaw, beard scratching the skin of my neck as one of his hands gripped my wrist and pried it away from the fabric. His fingers slotted between my own and he eased in a third finger. I bit back a whine.

“I need you now,” I murmured. “Thorin, _now_.”

He pulled his fingers out and reached for a condom, ripping the packet and sliding it over his erection before squeezing more lube into his hand, stroking his cock. I loosened my grip on the sheets and placed my hand on his shoulders, pulling my legs up as he eased inside me.

He hid his face in the crook where my neck and shoulder joined, biting and sucking at the skin. His hands stroked my legs as he waited for me to adjust to his girth. I dug my nails into his shoulders and pivoted my hips against his, wishing he’d _fucking move_ already! He nipped at my throat once more and pulled one hand off my shoulder, pinning it to the bed beside my head, and kissed me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, locked at the ankles, and arched at how it brought just a little deeper inside me. Thorin kissed me again and rolled his hips slowly. I bit my lip as he thrust into me, steadily building his pace.

He adjusted his position just enough to hit my prostate. I pulled my hand away from his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped my mouth. A few thrusts more brought me back to the edge of climaxing a second time. He curled his free hand around my cock, giving it a few tugs and I came, squeezing around his cock. Thorin cursed under his breath and I felt his release.

~~~

His arms shook in the attempt to hold himself up above me. I kiss him, wrapping my arms, heavy as they felt, around his neck and kissed him.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but did you swear just a moment ago?” I asked, deciding not to fight the grin crawling up my face. Thorin disentangled from me and disposed of the condom.

“And if I did?” he asked. He sounds embarrassed. I bet he’s blushing. How cute. I force myself onto my side, laying my head on his chest.

“I don’t care,” I remind him. “Feel free to lose a little control. There’s nothing wrong with swearing, Thorin.”

“Still debatable whether or not it’s okay for me to swear,” he said.

“Well, I don’t care. I only watch my language around kids. I don’t give a fuck when it’s just the two of us in bed.” Thorin hummed and I kissed the sweat warmed skin of his breast, “I love you.” Thorin turned toward me, embracing me.

“I love you, too,” he said, kissing my forehead. “And nothing is going to happen to me, Bilbo.”

“If you’re trying to reassure me…”

“At least pretend to believe me,” he said. I sigh and nestle closer to him. “It was a very difficult day for both of us. It’s over and we’re both alive to see another day. That is _all_ that matters to me right now.”

I close my eyes, sighing. His hand cups my cheek, thumb awkwardly flicking over my nose and I laugh, kissing him again. “If I have another nightmare, wake me up.”

I was met with a soft snore and I grin, letting sleep take me over again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. Today was a tiny bit hectic...

The first thing I noticed on waking up is the steady patter of rain outside and the scream of sirens.

The next thing is the smell of food drifting into the room. Pancakes? Waffles? I’m not sure.

I opened my eyes and the third thing I noticed is that my boyfriend is absent from bed, but I hear him reply to my mother from the kitchen.

I hummed, stretching, and sat up, reaching for my clothes still on the floor.

My phone vibrated against the counter, alerting me to a new text message. I picked it up after I’ve dressed and stared at the _unknown caller_ flashing at me.

Sméagol again?

I checked it.

_I’m close._

If it was from Thorin or anyone I knew, I’d find it reassuring. But as it likely came from Sméagol, it’s really not reassuring. I call Dori as I head into the kitchen.

“ _Good morning._ ”

“Morning.”

“ _Sleep well._ ”

“Dori, can we please cut the small talk? I don’t mean to be rude, but I think Sméagol contacted me again the morning.”

Thorin’s head looked up at me so fast, I don’t know how he neck didn’t snap. Not that I’m _not_ glad it didn’t. If that make sense.

“Are you getting any closer?”

“ _Sadly, no,_ ” he said. “ _We’re still waiting for forensics to tell us who killed Smaug yesterday, but we did manage to eliminate you as Smaug’s killer._ ”

“Which is something I already _know_ ,” I snapped, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“ _You all right, Bilbo?_ ”

“Yeah. Somewhat. I just…I want it to be over.”

“ _We’re working as hard as we can_ ,” Dori assured me.

Thorin wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my cheek. I ignored the cooing sounds my mother made, and the assurances that we’re _so cute_.

“I know you are,” I said. “And I’m sorry I snapped, but…”

“ _Hey, you’re scared. Most people would hide in their houses at this point_.”

“Which would be pointless,” I said.

“ _Depending how bad it gets, we may need to move you._ ”

“To a safe house?”

“ _It’s just an option. He’s already killed twice and both times they were in your name._ ”

“Another _Phantom of the Opera_ thing, huh?” I asked.

“ _It is a good musical, Christine._ ”

“Fuck you, it’s a good _book_ , Dori,” I snapped.

He laughed. “ _I’ll let you know when there’s some progress. Text me the phone number he used._ ”

“What? You don’t want me coming down to the station?”

“ _Maybe later. Have a good rest of the day_.”

“I’ll try. Thanks.”

“ _Goodbye._ ”

“Bye.” I hung up and sighed, leaning against Thorin’s chest. “I’m tired of this.”

“I know,” Thorin said. “And one day, it’ll be over. Till then, do you want some waffles?”

“Yes.”

He let me go and I sat at the table, holding my head in my hands. Thorin sets a plate in front of me and I grab the syrup. This requires sweet stuff. Lots and lots of sweet stuff.

“So,” he said. “What’s going on?”

I recap for him—and yes, I’m aware my mother’s listening. There’s no way she wouldn’t—the conversation I had with Dori and the text message. He doesn’t look pleased with the new developments. Mom clears her throat, setting a plate in front of him.

“Anything else to report?” she asked.

Thorin nodded and looked at me.

“We got a call from one of the realtors we were talking to. A new place is up for rent and they want to know if we’d be able to come down today or tomorrow.”

“We can go today,” I said. “Not like there’s anything pressing we need to do.”

“Wonderful,” Mom said, grinning. I turn to her.

“No.”

“What?”

“You are not coming with us.”

“Of course I am, dear,” she said, pinching my cheek.

 _Damn it, Mom_!

“Why wouldn’t I? I want to make sure you and Thorin get a decent place.”

“I think we can do that on our own,” I said. “We _are_ in our thirties, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Of course I’ve not forgotten. But that doesn’t mean you’re still my baby.”

“ _Mom_!”

“I also remember pushing you out of my nether regions, Bilbo.”

“ _MOM!!_ ” I hid my face in my hands, hoping to stop the blush coloring my face.

Thorin patted my back. “My mother’s worse.”

“No, I like your mother. I refuse to believe she’d do this!”

“Trust me, she would. And it’d be worse than this, I’m sure of it.”

Mom grins at us as though she’s trying to contain her laughter. It’s quite likely that she wants to. I shake my head.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not really, sweetheart,” she said, patting my shoulder. “More waffles?”

“I’m good.”

#

The place in question was a two bedroom townhouse, renovated eight years before. It had hard wood floors on the first and second floors, a carpeted staircase, complete utilities, including a laundry unit (excellent!), tiled entrance and bathrooms. There was also a deck and a back yard. The garden was a little overgrown, but nothing a little work wouldn’t do.

There was just _one_ problem.

The rent was a bit high for both of us at $1430. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fair price for the place, but until Thorin has his psychiatry degree—I think he’s aiming for PhD, but we’ve not really discussed it—we’re a bit tight on money.

“Well?” Thorin asked, finding me outside.

“I love it,” I said. “But I don’t know. It’s ideally close to the church, which works for you, and the backyard could use a little work which I’m fine with. I’ve not had a decent back yard since…I don’t even remember. And it’s not like your entire family.”

“Everyone is under one roof at that house. It’s insanity.”

“Yeah, it’s not as big as that, but decently big.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Thorin asked, leaning on the porch.”

“Rent. You’re in college.”

“Online.”

“And I scrape a decent living off my writing, but not fourteen-thirty decent.”

“Thankfully it doesn’t have to be.”

“We have to be able to pay first and last month, Thorin. That’s nearly three thousand dollars alone. I don’t know about you, but my credit’s not _that_ good.”

“But we both can pay off fifteen hundred individually,” Thorin said. I nod. That’s very true. “And after _that_ , it won’t cost so much.”

“True.”

“And it’s a good house.”

“Yes.”

“And you are definitely interested in the backyard.”

“Yes.”

“Unless you want to keep looking and you want to find a place _closer_ to the church, I think we’re good. It’s only half an hour away by foot and by bus. That’s not bad and I happen to like it just as much as you do. Our credit’s decent, and we can split the rent.”

I rub the back of my neck. “You really think we can afford this?”

“I do.”

I smile. “I really like it.”

“So we’ll get it.”

“Yes. But if we get into debt, I’ll blame you.”

“We won’t. I promise,” he said, leading me back inside.

Mom is talking to the realtor in the living room. They turn to us, the realtor holding her portfolio in the crook of her arm.

Mom arches a brow at us and excuses herself while we head back to the kitchen with the realtor, and signing papers and agreeing to move in within a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah…the Phantom of the Opera parallels are NOT completely intentional. But I don’t care. Fun story: I had a HUGE Phantom phase back in elementary school. I don’t know why, but I was in love with Erik…and in some ways, as unhealthy as it is and though it’s not as bad as it used to be, I still am…*runs away and hides* 
> 
> The house they decide to get: http://www.zillow.com/homedetails/176-Jay-St-Albany-NY-12210/29655253_zpid/


	15. Chapter 15

The following three weeks as we prepared for the move to Albany were peaceful. No random texts, no glimpses of someone following me in the crowd—nothing.

There were times I pondered it, but for the most part, I let it go, enjoying the time in New York I had left. I know it’s unlikely that Sméagol really decided to leave me alone, but I’d rather not worry about it. If he’s gone, good. If not…

Well, I’ll worry about it when that happens. Or I would if Bofur would let me.

“What if this is just the calm before the storm?” he asked.

Thorin and I glared at him.

“I know it is a cliché, but I’m serious. Just because he’s not made contact in a while doesn’t mean he’s been caught.”

And of all the days that I’d _like_ to forget about Sméagol, it’s my birthday, right? Bofur doesn’t seem to register that. I would _really_ rather prefer to forget about it.

Nori squeezed his shoulder. “Honey, shush, you’re scaring him.”

“I’m not scared,” I snapped, glaring at them. Thorin leaned on the table and massaged his forehead. “I’d rather just not think about it. Am I not allowed to at least _pretend_ that things are fine?”

“You’ve more right to pretend than anyone else,” Nori assured me, stabbing his chopsticks into his sushi. “Given everything going on in your life, I wouldn’t blame you. _Right, Bof_?”

Bofur sighed. “Yes, you are, but I don’t think—”

“ _Bofur_ ,” Nori warned. He wisely shut his mouth and leaned on the table. “Thank you. Will you be having a house warming party or something?”

“Thorin wants to do a blessing,” I said.

“It’s a good idea.”

“Its superstition,” I said, trying to keep my annoyance out of my voice. “If you want some Christian stuff around, that’s okay. I’m okay having a cross or two around, but a house does _not_ need to be blessed in order to be safe from the paranormal or whatever.”

“It’s not to keep us safe from the paranormal, but from _evil_.”

“I’m pretty sure evil’s around wherever we go, regardless. Being a Christian does _not_ make someone less evil. Dare I point out Dracula?”

“A six-hundred-year-old warlord isn’t relevant to this conversation,” he hissed.

“I’m just saying that he was a Christian and he still slaughtered—”

“I still don’t see how this is relevant to getting the house blessed.”

“Have you two really been arguing over this?” Bofur asked.

“Yes,” we said.

“For about two weeks,” Thorin added. “It’s not like it’s going to kill anyone.”

“True,” Nori said, “but some people will definitely be uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“I’m not done,” Nori snapped at me. “Because you two have yet to find a compromise and it’s a very _simple_ one: have the house blessing, but have it done privately. Besides, Bilbo, if it’s not all that necessary, then what would be the harm in having one?”

Thorin grins smugly at me. It’s not often I hate when my friends are right, but at this moment, I really hate it. I sigh.

“Fine, but _before_ we move in,” I said.

Thorin nodded, still grinning at me. He escapes to the bathroom for a moment and I stick my tongue at Nori.

“Don’t hate on me because you don’t want to have a house blessing.”

“What would even be the point?”

“You’re boyfriend, whom you have agreed to move in with, wants one,” Bofur said. “Even if it is illogical, I’d have one if Nori wanted it.”

Nori kissed him. Well, now I feel like crap.

“Was it that stupid?” I asked.

“Yeah,” they said.

Well, now I _really_ feel crappy. Thorin returned and once seated, I whispered in his ear:

“I’ve been an ass. Sorry.”

He turned and kissed me. “I forgive you.”

“Bofur, why are they so cute?”

“Not fair.”

I flipped them off. What? They’re being asses. It’s completely justified. I lower my hand and dinner continued without further interruption.

Afterward, we went our separate ways. Nori and Bofur mentioned something about visiting Bombur’s family while Thorin led me in the opposite direction, arm around my shoulder.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“No,” he said, laughing. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

I pouted. “Tell me.”

Thorin kisses me. “I know you aren’t one for surprises, but I promise you will like this. Besides, we’re almost there.”

“Almost where?”

He steered me around a corner toward the pier. It was still early evening and couples, both straight and gay, walked around, paying very little attention to others around them.

The water sloshed against the concrete as Thorin led me to a table on the edge of the pier, an umbrella open to protect from the glare of sunlight or from rain. Miles away is the Statue of Liberty, the lights already shining on her as night descended on us.

“Okay, really, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Thorin promised, sitting beside from me. “I love you. Do I need another reason to do something romantic for you?”

“But we’ve been fighting—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, squeezing my hand.

“I’ve been a jerk.”

“I have the feeling it happens with every couple. No one’s perfect and I don’t expect or want that from you. Jerk or not, if I want to have a bottle of wine on the pier with you, looking out at Lady Liberty, on your birthday, then why the heck not?”

If I wasn’t feeling butterflies earlier, I do now. And if I hadn’t agreed to the house blessing back at the restaurant, I’d definitely change my mind now.

I lean forward and kiss him. Thorin cups my cheek with his other hand, fingers carding through my hair.

“Your mom’s baking a cake for you.”

I hum. “I’ll tell her to save it for tomorrow. We are _not_ going home tonight if I can help it.”

“Hotel’s behind me.”

I pulled away and stared at him with mock-accusation. “You are devious when you want to be.”

“And?”

“I love it,” I murmured, kissing him again. “I love _you_.” A waiter approached and we pulled apart. He set down a pitcher of wine with different fruit slices inside it. “Sangria?”

“You don’t like it?” he asked. I kiss him.

“Love it, but it’s been a long time since I had any,” I said, pouring the desert into glasses. The wine isn’t too sweet, but it’s balanced out by the taste of strawberries and blueberries.

Between sips, we discuss what lies ahead for us in Albany. A possible future, a dream that I’d not thought of even _hoping_ for…it’s strange to think of entertaining marriage again with someone. Yeah, I thought about it when Dwalin lived. We both had, and I’m certain he wouldn’t begrudge this.

It’s odd, I suppose. I know Thorin and I aren’t ready to even _consider_ it and here we are, discussing it. Would Dwalin…no. He wouldn’t and yet if he had lived…

“Bilbo?” Thorin said. “Sweetheart, you’re crying.” He wipes my tears away with his thumb.

“I love you,” I said. “But I…sometimes I still miss Dwalin. It’s been almost a year now and I—”

Thorin kisses my forehead. “It’s okay. I miss him, too. And I can’t speak for whether or not he loved you, you and your friends would know best, but I do know you loved him and that he was lucky to have you in his life. I also know he’d want you to be happy, Bilbo, with whomever you choose.”

“I know,” I said, “I’m glad to have met you, Thorin.” I wiped my eyes and stood. “So, there’s a room at a hotel waiting for us, is there?”

Thorin stood and took my hand in his and led me across the street. Once inside, he led me into an empty hallway on the first floor, a key card in his other hand. We stopped outside a door and he slid the key into a slot.

It wouldn’t read it. “It worked earlier,” he said.

“Wrong room?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It was _this_ room, I’m sure of it.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll go double check.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“If you want, but I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The lights went out and I heard something collide into Thorin’s skull. He cried out and hit the wall. I reached for him, groping at air.

“Thorin? Thorin?!”

The backup lights turned on, lighting the hallway from the floor. Thorin was out cold, slumped against the wall. I knelt, feeling his head. No blood. Good, but also not good. Adrenaline pumped through me, making it hard to think and difficult to call the police.

A part of me demanded getting a security guard, but I didn’t want to leave Thorin. I looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of someone, friend or foe, and saw no one.

I pressed my phone to my ear, listening to the ring as I patted Thorin’s cheeks.

“Thorin, wake up!” I shouted. “Thorin!”

“ _911,_ ” a woman said on the other line. “ _What’s your emergency?_ ”

“Someone attacked—”

Something hard collided with my skull. I registered pain.

Then everything was black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> house blessings, or house cleansings, are done in different cultures and religions, including all Christian sects (I should say denomination, but sects makes it seem a bit more…unified to me, I suppose, like its supposed to be). I’ve only been to one, and I really don’t see the point of having one. But Thorin, I feel, would want to have a house blessing…
> 
> Now excuse me while I run away, regretting nothing :p


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Waringing:
> 
> Hostage situation. Not sure if this requires a trigger warning, but just to be safe. I promise nothing more than that and non-con kissing happens.

_Where am I?_

My head felt too heavy for my neck and my limbs stiff. I managed to lift it, feeling blood rush from my head downward, leaving a dull throbbing beneath my skull.

Cloth was stuck in my mouth, tied at the back of my head and another cloth covered my eyes. I could see the fabric threads and a dull, golden glow of a light bulb.

I tried to move my hands, but those were bound by some sort of plastic. I tried again with no more success than the first time. My heart beat quickened and I groaned, trying to rip my legs free from their own bindings.

A cold hand touches my cheek.

“Stop struggling,” a man said. “It’s pointless to try.”

He strokes the curve of my cheekbone.

“I’ve missed you, precious. You’ve no idea how much. You still like _Ollie’s_ right?”

 _Ollie’s_?

I’ve not eaten at or anything from _Ollie’s_ since college…

“I got you your favorite. Though that may have changed…it’s the sweet and sour chicken lunch, lo mein, and a spring roll. I wasn’t sure what to get you to drink, but I think water will have to do, though if you like, I can make some chamomile tea. Let me take this off you.”

I feel him move, taking off the gag. I feel like cotton’s still in my mouth.

“Sméagol?”

The man chuckled.

“I suppose you wouldn’t recognize my voice. It’d been years since we’ve seen each other after all and the first thing forgotten tends to be a person’s voice.”

“Just answer the fucking question,” I hissed.

He settled between my legs, hands on my knees.

 _No,_ I thought. _God, please, no—_

“Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you, Bilbo. I could never hurt you. You’re too precious to me. Yes, it’s me. It’s Sméagol.”

He touched my cheek again and I turned away from it.

“You’ve been sending me texts?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To let you know I’m with you. You didn’t need to panic.”

“I think panicking, given what you wrote me, was a very logical thing to do,” I snapped. “What do you want? What did you do to Thorin?”

Sméagol’s fingers dug into my jeans.

“He’s alive. Believe me: it was hard not killing him, but I restrained myself for you. He’s at the hospital where Nori works right now. I’ve kept an eye on him.”

It’s not as comforting as one would think, but the panic of losing another lover vanished. Breathing became just a touch easier.

“Sméagol, how did you get out?”

Sméagol shushed me, pressing a finger to my lips. I clench my teeth together to keep from biting it. That would _not_ benefit me.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m here now and we can be together at long last. I know about Sauron and I am sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I know about Dwalin and I wish I could have spared you that pain too.”

“Dwalin wasn’t abusive.”

“But he left.”

“He died. It wasn’t his fault.”

“And now that priest?” Sméagol asked. “Thorin? You think he loves you?”

“I know he does.”

“How do you know? Would he renounce his god for you? I would.”

“Sméagol, I grew up a Christian, so I can tell you that I would _never_ ask him to do renounce God.”

“A god who’s followers have done nothing but hurt you, demonized you, rejected you and all because you were different from them and for something you can’t even help. Does that make sense to you? What makes this Christian any different from them? You think he’s like you?”

“He is like me. I have seen his books. I’ve read them. I know he’s like me and he still loves God. I don’t know how he can and I don’t know why he does, but I accept that and I won’t ask him to give up something that makes him the man he is today.”

“ _I_ love you,” Sméagol said. “And I’m the only one who ever truly did. Deagol never deserved you. Sauron hurt you. Dwalin left and got blown up. And Thorin, can’t you see he’s using you? I would never hurt you, desert you, or use you. In time, you’ll see that.”

He kissed me. And while it was a chaste kiss, I still wanted to vomit.

“You need to eat. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything.”

I felt him shift around and a moment later something was pressed to my mouth. From the shape of it, I guess the spring roll.

I don’t open my lips.

“You need to eat, Bilbo. It’s not drugged, I promise. I would never do that to you.”

“You knocked me out.”

“I had to get you away from him somehow,” Sméagol said. “Please, you really do need to eat.”

“I _need_ to use the bathroom.”

I bet he’s frustrated. I half want him to hit me, just to prove that he’s no better than Sauron. He sighs and the spring roll is taken away from my mouth.

“Okay. But the blindfold stays on.”

Something cold (and likely sharp) is pressed between the chair leg and my ankle. I hear a snapping sound. He moves to the other ankle and the same instrument is used to free the other leg.

Sméagol moves behind me and lets my hands go. I want to run, but I resist.

I feel as though I need him to trust me before I make my escape or something like that. Need him to be shocked or something.

Running right now…he’d expect that.

He takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom.

“You’re not going inside with me,” I said as he led me blindly down a hall.

“I won’t,” he said.

“I’ll need to talk the blindfold off.”

“Wait till you’re inside, then,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I’d hurt you. I can wait for you to trust me and I understand you don’t. At least not right now.”

 _Not ever_ if I can help it.

He stops and moves me toward the left, then pushes me inside and the door closes. I rip off the blindfold and look around. I feel like I’ve ended up in some dingy one-stall bar bathroom. There’s rust in the sink. Paint and wallpaper is flaky on the walls, the mirror has a crack in it and there’s only one window—no shower or bathtub. It probably is a dingy one-stall bar bathroom.

I approach the window and look out. I can see a fire escape and the window is big enough for someone to fit through. There’s a screen in the way, but that’s easy to take care of. I can probably fit through it if I really need to, but right now, it’s best I stay. If I’m going to escape, it needs to be planned out properly. I know there’s a bathroom and I know I can escape from it.

It’s a start for now and I think it’s a good start. I step away from the window and wring my hands together to keep them from shaking.

 _I need to keep clearheaded,_ I thought, approaching the toilet. _And perhaps find out where I am exactly._

_A phone, too, would be good…_

_God, if you’re real…_

What?

If he’s real, then what?

If he gets me out of here, will I convert?

Will all the years of anger just _magically_ disappear?

I doubt it.

My stomach lurches and I brace myself against the wall, gasping for air. My eyes sting from unshed tears.

No matter how calm I try to be, I’m terrified and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m going to do or what I’m going to say to Sméagol over the next few days. I flush the toilet and wash my hands. The water’s icy, and the bar soap is slippery, but it’s better than nothing. I put the blindfold back on just as Sméagol started pounding on the door.

“I’m done,” I called and the door opened.

Sméagol led me out of the room and back to the chair. “Will you eat now?”

“Yes.”


	17. Chapter 17

In two days, I’m allowed to wander around on my own, so long as I stay in side and away from the windows. If Sméagol were to ever leave, I’d be tied to a chair and urged to sleep or something.

During this time, I’d look for something to cut my bonds with and find a phone. There’s a landline hidden behind some plastic. By some stretch of luck, it still works once I found the phone’s outlet, so part one of my plan is done! But finding something to cut my bonds with is another matter entirely. If there is anything sharp enough in this place, I’ve _yet_ to find it. There must be _something_ , though. Otherwise, Sméagol wouldn’t be able to release me.

“Feeling okay?”

“My back hurts and my hands are tingly,” I said, turning toward Sméagol’s voice. He strides over to me and released my hands first. I rubbed my wrists and shook them out, trying to get blood flow back, it leaves my hands more tingly than I’d like. Sméagol kissed my wrists and I tried not to recoil.

“I didn’t realize they were too tight.”

“It’d be better if I could have a bed. My back wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“There isn’t a bed,” he said. I know that. All there is here is a mattress and he isn’t likely to tie me up like that. Too easy to maneuver around in a way that would help me escape—so the chair it is. He doesn’t trust me that much. I remove the blind fold and stretch, trying to ignore Sméagol’s stare and pay more attention to the pizza box and Pepsi now on the counter. “Hungry?” he asked, amused. I shrug. I am hungry and pizza sounds good.

“A bit,” I said. “You were gone a long time for a pizza run.”

“The pizza was the last thing I needed to do. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Leaving? I do _not_ like the sound of that. “What do you mean?” I asked.

Sméagol sat on one of the barstools. “It’s not like we can stay in New York, Bilbo. Not with the police hunting me down.” He gives me a pointed look, which I ignore. He knows what I did was necessary. He just doesn’t like that I reported and identified him for the police.

He doesn’t like that I did the necessary thing anyway.

Good thing I don’t fucking care. Instead, I opened the box and took a piece, biting a massive chunk out of it. Sméagol offers me one of the paper plates he’s stashed. And a plastic cup for the Pepsi. He stands and kisses the back of my head. “Be ready to go soon,” he said, arms wrapped around my torso. I try not to seem discomforted by his touch.

He lets go and walks away.

Okay. I need to find that sharp object soon.

While he’s gone, I look in the back of the bar. Something _must_ have been left behind that I can use. Again my search is fruitless and I go to his jacket, searching his pockets—and found it. It’s a box cutter with a sleeve. It’s perfect and I push it under my sleeve. I hear the toilet flush and it back in my seat. He grabs his coat.

“I’ve got to go talk to the car dealer. Seems he found a car that’d be perfect for us.” He closed the box and pulled me back to the chair, plastic ties in hand. Once secured to the chair and blindfolded, he leaves. I wait for the door to close again before licking my lips.

Getting the box cutter wasn’t the hard part. Using it, while blindfolded, is. It takes a few minutes of maneuvering to get it out of my sleeve and into my hand and it’s impossible to do without slicing myself.

But once the knife is held in my hand and the blade pressed to the plastic, it’s only a matter of time before it snaps and when it does, I take the blindfold off and cut my other hand free before wrapping the bleeding hand with my blindfold. Only then do I free my legs and run to the phone.

“ _911_ ,” the operator recites. “ _What’s your emergency._ ”

“My name is Bilbo Baggins, I’m a kidnap victim. I don’t know where I am, but it’s a bar. Dori Rison is my friend and he’s been tracking down my kidnapper—”

“ _Can you find a window?_ ”

“I don’t have time to describe the area,” I said. “I’m going to leave the line open. Trace the address and tell Dori Rison.”

I set the phone down, ignoring the muffled calls on the other end, heading to the bathroom. I break the window and climb out, hoping not to cut myself up any more than I already had. I keep my hurt hand at eye level wondering which direction I’ll have to go in.

Away from the entrance would be for the best. So I run to the other side of the alley, nearly bumping into a passerby.

“Hey, watch it, you fucker!” the youth snapped.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll be more careful next time.” I really don’t have time to deal with street kids right now. Not when I’m bleeding and starting to feel dizzy on top of nauseas. “Where’s the nearest clinic?”

He points down the road and I thank him. The sun is starting to set, telling me that it’s around seven or eight— _please let it be open_ , I prayed, finding the clinic. My vision was starting to blur and I banged on the door, finding it closed.

_No, nonono! No!!_

“BILBO!!!”

I turn around to see Nori and Dori rushing toward me.

“Dori, he’s bleeding!”

Glass shattered and Dori hefted me up. I attempt to push him off, snapping that I can still walk, but he pays no attention to me while Nori leads us to one of the rooms.

“Go tell the others we got Bilbo,” Nori said, ripping open an alcohol swab. “I’ve got this! And call an ambulance while you’re at it!” He unwrapped the cloth and tossed it in the bin before wiping the blood off. It stung and I bit my lip, trying not to cry. I turn my face from Nori as he examined the damage. “Fucking God, Bilbo, what happened?”

“Tied me up with plastic ties to a chair,” I said. “Found a box cutter. You try not cutting yourself blindfolded.” Nori cursed again and pressed gauze to the wound. “I’m going to give you a tetanus shot.”

“What day is it?”

“It’s Friday the twenty-sixth of September,” he said. “You’ve been missing since the night of the twenty-second, which was a little more than four days ago. Thorin was admitted for a concussion, but other than that and being out of his mind terrified for you, he’s fine. Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” I shook my head.

“Except for knocking me out to get me here, no,” I said. “Sméagol didn’t hurt me at all.”

“What about touch you?”

“Kissed, but nothing else,” I said. Nori sighed as he finished wrapping my hand up before grabbing a tetanus serum and needle. I tried to sit up, but he pushed me back down.

“Stay down for now, the ambulance should be here soon to take you to the hospital. You might have a concussion too and we want to make sure, you know. And they’ll want to do a psych evaluation and a physical.” He pulled my sleeve up and rubbed the area he was going to stab me at with another alcohol swab.

“But nothing happened.”

“It’s just routine, Bilbo.” He jabbed the needle into my skin. “I believe you, but when Sméagol’s caught, the DA will need as much evidence as he can possibly get.” He pulled the needle out and placed a band-aid over the puncture wound. “As usual, we can be assured that he’s obsessed with you, but won’t ever hurt you. At the same time, he did escape, _so_ …we’re certain it’s in your favor.”

The EMPs arrived, bringing in a stretcher, Nori introduced himself and summarized what he’d done so far and what might need to be done at the hospital. I try to keep my tears hidden, but I know I’m seen. It’s easier to pretend otherwise when your eyes are closed.

#

The physical isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It’s humiliating being subjected to a rape test (again), but at least I know what to expect. But other than that, I’m fine and they take me off the IV, allowing me to leave the bed and have meals in the cafeteria once the doctors allowed me to leave the bed.

I took my meals with Oin, who introduced me to the shrink who’d do my psych evaluation later, an Elrond Peredhil or something like that.

He’s a nice fellow and showed me a picture of his children—three boys and a girl.

“When can I have visitors?”

“Officer Rison requested that visitors wait till after I give him my report,” Elrond said. “So the sooner we get it over with, the sooner you can see your friends and family again.”

I agree to see him in an hour and use said hour to prepare for the inevitably invasive questions. And when it was time to get started, it was a shock getting everything off my chest.

He did focus on the kidnapping and the stalking, but he seemed quite interested in my relationship with Thorin. I can’t say why and when I asked, he said that atheists and theists usually don’t mix well, so that Thorin and I were moving in together impressed him.

He held his clipboard up. “I’ll get this to Dori ASAP,” he promised. “Just hold tight a little longer.”

He closed the door behind him and I pulled my legs up to my chin, hiding my in the space between them. I want to see Thorin as soon as possible. I need to see him, make sure he’s all right. The selfish part of me needs him here more so to assure myself that everything’s okay for the both of us.

#

The first person I see the next day is Dori. “Tell me you caught him,” I demand.

He nodded. “We caught him,” he said. “He’s being taken back to his cell as we speak. Tried to escape northward when he realized you ran off and contacted us.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know how you can make so many enemies, Bilbo.”

I shrug. “It’s not like I _intend_ to make enemies with anyone. Can I see Thorin now?”

“Yes,” Dori said. “Though hopefully he took my advice and got tea instead of coffee.” I snort. Thorin? Drink tea when he’s not sick? Not likely. Dori approached the door and opened it. “Come on in, but don’t crowd him.”

The first to run in were Fili, Kili, and Dequan. The younger boys jumped on the bed and embraced me, crying. I try to hush them, but it doesn’t seem to do much. Eventually, I give up and beckon Fili to join us. He sits on the bed and his charade finally drops.

After them is Bofur. His eyes are red rimmed too. “Gave us quite a scare there, Bilbo,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“We know,” he said, smiling, setting a vase of rainbow daisies on the bedside table. “Most of us are in the cafeteria since there’s too many of us to come in at once. Besides, I’m the only one who had flowers. Everyone else brought food. I think your mom made marzipan.”

I grin. Marzipan sounds great.

“Then why are we still here? Let’s go to the cafeteria,” I said. “Okay, boys, let’s go. And please don’t trip me while at it.” Easier said than done. I must look ridiculous with two second graders and a sixth grader embracing me and refusing to let go as we headed to the cafeteria.

It’s easy picking out our group and it’s almost surreal to see my parents next to each other. Dis is with Víli, talking quietly with Frerin. Clarissa and Thrain are still setting up the food when we get there and Thorin is talking to Ori when he turns his head and jumps out of his seat, rushing toward me. For a moment, I thought he was angry. He embraced me.

“Thank God,” he whispered, shaking. I returned the hug. “Thank you, God. I thought…I thought you’d…”

“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m okay, sweetheart.”

Despite my assurances, he holds me tighter.

I don’t want him letting me go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over, there's a few chapters left and I *might* have another story for this series...


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this chapter...I'm feeling rather crappy today, so...anyway...this chapter is straight up domesticity

Dori talked angrily in his phone as I piled a plate up with lasagna, Caesar salad sans chicken, pasta salad, and marzipan.

And that’s just the _first_ course.

We kept glancing at him as he paced. Ori dismissed himself and approached his brother.

I somehow was ushered between my parents. They didn’t ask any invasive questions about my kidnapping experience, thank God, but they definitely asked me if I wanted more food. I have to convince them to let me eat what I’ve got on my plate first before forcing more down my throat.

Ori returned with Dori. Dori was red faced and ground his teeth while Ori was pale and wrung his hands together.

“Bilbo, uh, bad news,” Ori said.

 _Shit_.

“Sméagol broke out,” Dori said, snarling as he grabbed his coat.

The uproar following that nearly burst my eardrums.

“I have to go to the scene to get more details, but I will keep Bilbo and Thorin updated. Until then, this is an ongoing investigation and I am not at liberty to say anything more.” He glanced at me. “I am sorry.”

I leaned on the table, elbows pressed to the surface and my head in my hands.

“Now what?” Bofur asked.

I licked my lips and looked at him. I glanced at Thorin over Bofur's shoulder.

“We still move,” I said. “There’s no reason not to now that I’m home and I think it’d be for the best.”

Thorin nodded. I swallowed and stabbed the lasagna with a plastic fork.

 _What am I going to do when Sméagol comes after me again_?

~One Week Later~

I opened the last box as Thorin takes another pile of cardboard outside to lay out with the recycling bin and began pulling out the new dishes Mom ordered from Pier 1 Imports for us. I looked on the back.

 _Antique Scroll_.

Within were also packed a soup tureen, a serving bowl, and a gravy boat. Leave it to my mother to get something that is basic yet fancy. (Though, I _doubt_ the turkey salt and pepper shakers were necessary…thank God for the _normal_ ones included.)

There were six mugs that didn’t match from…the _Luminous_ collection. There were also latte mugs too. And several glass tumblers all normal looking.

Somehow, she got in her mind to also include a collection of different wine glasses (two sets) with a cracked design. I nearly had a heart attack seeing them! I swear my first thought was that they were broken. One set was green and the other blue.

“How’s it going in here?” Thorin asked.

“Good, just trying to figure out what goes in the dishwasher and what _doesn’t_ ,” I replied, setting the ceramic and glass cups and glasses on the table. “I need to talk to Mom about her choice in dishware.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No. I do,” I said, moving the plates to the counter. “It just…it doesn’t feel like these are the best things for, say, casual use.”

Thorin hummed and wrapped his arms around me before I could start loading the dishes.

“What?”

“They seem good enough for me. So what if they’re a bit pretty. Dis, Frerin, and Mom tried getting us some sort of chicken patterned dishes.”

My eyes widened. “Why?”

“As a joke. I told them you’d use them for target practice against the tree in the back yard with Frerin’s head painted on it.”

I shook my head. “As tempting as it sounds, no. I’d just donate them to Goodwill. A granny who is desperate for chicken patterned dinnerware can have them.”

Thorin released me. “Besides, they did get us some nice table cloths and a couple runners,” he said. “ _Thankfully_ machine washable.”

“Good,” I said, loading the dishes in the washer.

Thorin picked up more of the dishes and brought them over. “Did we get cookware?”

“I brought my own. They have already been put away,” I assured him. “Though we might get more at the open house.”

“Sure. What are these?” He pulled out what looked like leather placemats. One side was blue and the other green.

I shrugged. “They’ll be easy to clean.”

Thorin inspected them. “That might be the only upside to these. And what in the world?”

He set the placemats down and pulled out a wooden charger. I shook my head.

“I think they expect us to have a dinner party rather than an open house,” I said, trying not to smile.

Thorin didn’t look amused.

“I know we don’t even have room for even half of this. My mom’s crazy. You know that.”

“I do…the wine glasses are proof of it.”

I nod. I don’t even know anymore.

I finish loading the dishwasher and run it. “Okay. That’s the last box, thank God, but the new living room furniture is coming later this afternoon. We’ve a couple hours if you want to take a break and go out to eat. We’ll figure out where to store things later.”

Thorin rubbed his face, groaning. “Sure. Do we need to tell your security detail?”

I roll my eyes. Dori contacted some friends in the Albany police department, requesting they keep an eye on Thorin and me in case Sméagol decided to come after us.

“Sadly, I think we do.”

We glanced out the window at the black car parked outside our door. Within were two men enjoying coffee. That would be my “security” as Thorin likes to call them.

“How long are we going to have to go through this?”

“Just until Sméagol’s caught, dead, or in the wind,” I remind him.

We move away from the window.

“Just…try to ignore them and let’s just focus on getting the house ready for the blessing and open house this weekend. That is _all_ I want to think a about right now. Not Sméagol or the cops outside our house. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m going to make yet…”

“Finger food.”

I scoff. “That’s all I know. And more sweets than we really need.”

“Wine?” he asked.

“I’d say yes, but we got people driving and kids will be present. Sparkling cider will have to do.”

I went to the room now known as the office and turned on my computer to look up a restaurant nearby that we can go to while waiting for the delivery truck to arrive. Thorin kisses my neck. I smirk.

“You can food or you can have sex. We don’t have time for both right now.”

“Food. Always,” he said.

“Wise choice.”

Someone knocked on the door and Thorin kissed my cheek before going to answer the door.

“Furniture’s here,” he called.

I sighed. I guess we’ll order something for lunch and go out for dinner then. I tell Thorin this plan after a moment, meeting one of the mover’s stares with a glare, daring them to challenge me while Thorin orders pizza.

I am not in the mood for dealing with bigoted homophobes and assholes right now. I still have a million things to do before Sunday.

He rolls his eyes and finishes his job before escaping back to the car.

One of the others apologized for him (apparently, he’s bi, but his co-workers haven’t figured it out because he’s in a long term heterosexual relationship…go figure).

“Could’ve been worse,” I said, signing some papers for him.

He thanked us for our patience and left.

I stared at the new furniture. Most of it was some shade of brown—nice shades of brown and left to us to do with as we liked now that the packaging and assembly was done.

I stared at the sofa, ottoman, two swivel chairs, and the mahogany coffee table, scratching my chin.

“Should we get a rug in here?”

“Depends on the rug!” Thorin called. “Leave it alone and come eat.”

I suppose I’ll just have to leave it at that for now. “You’ll help me rearrange the furniture though, right?”

“Yes, dear,” Thorin sighed exaggeratingly.

I stuck my tongue at him and sat down, stealing crazy bread from his plate. I think I need sleep. Moving’s not gotten easier to do with experience. My back hurts and my muscles are sore and I think I’ll just lie in bed all day tomorrow.

“So…how’s school?” I asked. Thorin shrugged.

“Not bad. I got an application from the Albany Medical Center. They’re looking for an intern. It’d be something to do outside the degree and church. You?”

I shook my head. Nothing’s happened on my end yet. “Unless you count a request to read my work aloud at Hudson Valley College, I’ve nothing to report.”

“Is this what we have to look forward to?” he asked. I furrowed my brow, unsure what he’s talking to. “Small talk at the table about work and school and stuff?”

“Yeah. I think so. Given if it remains peaceful here.”

“I like it. Why must everything be out of this world dramatic?”

I almost choke, trying not to laugh. “I don’t know. Life is funny and sometimes soap opera dramatic and dear God, I hate soap operas…” Thorin shrugged again, mouth full of a supreme pizza. I get up and grab a cookbook. I might as well figure out what we’re going to serve tomorrow afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work at Pier 1 Imports and I can assure you all the furniture and dinnerware/glassware mentioned are actual things. There is a chicken patterned dish set called the Gallo collection: http://www.pier1.com/on/demandware.store/Sites-pier1_us-Site/default/Search-Show?q=gallo


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex scene here. If you'd rather avoid that, it begins after this: ~~~ and just skip down to the ~~~

I just let Thorin and a few of Dad’s church members walk from room to room, mumbling prayers as Thorin leads the blessing. Honestly, I’ve _no_ idea what they’re doing and figured I’d just better stay out of the way, making finger sandwiches while the brownies baked.

“How’re you doing?”

I look at Dad, setting the last sandwich on the tray. “Fine,” I said. Is the blessing done?”

“Yes, it’s done. You might as well thank them for coming. Some of them have to leave for one reason or another. I’ll watch the oven.” I nod and enter the living room where several have gathered, laughing and talking. As usual, the sense that I don’t belong dogs my steps, but it ebbs a bit when Thorin wrapped his arm around my shoulders, never breaking a beat from his conversation.

“What about you, Bilbo?” My aunt Ruby asked. “Will you be coming back to Church any time soon?”

“You mean will I convert again? I’m not sure yet. It’s still…”

She nodded. “We understand. Remember you’re always welcome.”

I smiled and thanked her and Thorin gave me a comforting squeeze. Dad called for me and we set the table in the dining room. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, Dad,” I said. “I’m fine. Why do you keep asking?”

“You were kidnapped and I’m just _now_ finding out about some _other_ exes of yours that were less than…”

“Can we _not_ discuss it? And the man who kidnapped me was never my boyfriend at any point in my life.”

“But you knew him?”

“Dad, it was college. I was dating his cousin and…can we please just drop it? I don’t want to think about it. Please?” He sighed.

“All right. But I worry, you know.”

 _Do you?_ I nodded and officially opened the doors for the open house. All in all, it wasn’t bad, the police outside barred anyone from saying anything about my and Thorin’s relationship (I think), and it was tedious explaining it to our new neighbors…

On the outside, everything was fine. Everything was swell. My relationship with Thorin is good, I’m writing my blog and poems again, we’re (for the most part) accepted.

But inside, I feel scared. I know it’s because of Sméagol.

I wonder…

How much longer is my life going to be ruled by a fear of those who have tried to hurt me before? How long will I have to live with the pain they’ve inflicted on me?

Another day? A week?

A month?

God forbid a year!

Internally, I’m afraid. And I’m tired.

A few hours of mingling passed before the stream of people lessened and then died. Once the doors were closed at last, Thorin and I loaded the dishwasher.

“Never again should we have something that lasted that long.”

“Why?” I asked, frowning at him. “I thought you liked company.”

He waved his hand in a so-so manner and I grinned. “Are you an introvert?”

“I was worse when I was a child.”

“Oh,” I said, smirking. “Did you listen to AC DC loudly in your room with the doors closed just to drown out everyone else?”

“How did…”

“I may be an extrovert, but in high school…”

“Well, high school is high school and it should never be revisited. Correct?”

“Fair enough.”

“Besides,” Thorin grinned. “You didn’t have siblings. Priest I may be now, but that didn’t stop me when I was fifteen from losing my cool when Frerin came into my room uninvited.”

I laughed. “Fair enough, you were constantly annoyed by your siblings. So I will remain happy that I don’t have any since you and my best friends continue muttering horror stories about having siblings.”

“Good. Listen to our wisdom,” he said. “In all honesty, it’s not that bad having siblings. You can’t live with them and you can’t sell them to a circus, but eventually you learn to put up with them. I had to learn it quickly when Dis was born. For whatever reason, she got away with everything. I don’t understand it even now.”

I shrugged and set some hand washed dishes to dry on the drying rack. “Must have been annoying, being the eldest. Bofur has that problem.”

“Not Nori?”

“Well, he’s not the _oldest_. Honestly, if we all met earlier, you’d probably have been scandalized by him. He was _wild_. It was by some miracle he decided to shape up as much as he did.”

“Meaning?”

“He has a criminal record. Nori used to be a petty thief.”

“But Dori is a cop.”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that…”

“Yeah. Dori was never high enough on the ladder to actually get rid of it and still isn’t, but it’s been years since Nori was last arrested.”

“What about yourself?” Thorin asked, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Any sins you need to repent? Or would you rather talk about Nori’s?”

“Define sin. I’ve not done anything outside of romancing and seducing a priest,” I said. “And since the priest was hot, I don’t really feel bad about it.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” Thorin dried his hands and placed them on my hips. “He asked you to move in with him, didn’t he?” He cages me against the counter.

“He did. I agreed. Mostly because it means getting away from my friends whom I’ve been roommates with since college. I _really_ needed to get out of that living situation.” He kissed my neck and wedged a leg between my knees. “Especially since I’ve not had a decent night sleep since they got engaged.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Thorin purred. “That thing at the college you’re going to. When is that again?”

I lick my lips as he continues assaulting my neck. “Uh…tomorrow afternoon,” I said. My crotch rubbed against his thigh and I shuddered. “So…when’s your internship.”

“Noon,” he said, taking my earlobe in my teeth and nibbling. I thrust my hips down on his leg and gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“Are you trying to make me come in my pants?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he purred again. I groaned and pushed him off far enough to take his hand and lead him upstairs to the bedroom.

~~~

Once there, I shut the blinds and pushed him down onto the bed before straddling his waist. Thorin’s hands pet my thighs as I unbutton his shirt, kissing down his torso and teasing his nipples with my tongue. His breathing was light and steady.

His hands unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down. He squeezed my ass, massaging me through the fabric. I straightened and pulled his hands away from me, pinning them above his head.

“No touching,” I said. “Will I need the handcuffs?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

I kissed him and climbed off. Letting him watch me remove the rest of my clothes before tackling his own jeans and letting his clothes join mine. I pushed him back down.

“Could you take me again?” he asked as I straddled him again.

I stare at him. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“We never talked about whether I liked it or not, actually. I never said I didn’t like it.”

“You never said you did, either,” I remind him, reaching into the bedside table and grabbing the bottle of lube and a couple condoms. “Otherwise, I’d have had you again so much sooner. Turn over.”

He obeys, situated on his hands and knees as I pour lube over my hands, warming them up, and begin stretching him open. Thorin’s breathing steadily became more labored as I probed my finger inside him, searching for his prostrate.

Once found, he yelps and I lick my lips, rubbing the pad of my middle finger against it and watching him shake and moan for me. Once I’m confident I won’t hurt him, I have him settle on his back again. His lovely cock rests against his stomach.

I lick it before swallowing him down, one hand playing with his sack while the other grips the base. His whines and his hips pivot. I grin and pull off, swirling my tongue around the head before taking a condom and putting it on him.

The second one I put on myself before squeezing out more lube to coat my cock with. I pressed the tip of my cock against his ass and eased in. He is still deliciously tight and I have to grip his hips in a death grip to stop myself from coming to soon. Thorin fisted the sheets beneath him, head tilted back and exposing the beautiful line of his neck.

Once he’s used to me inside him, I rolled my hips, slowly building pace and readjusting so that the tip of my cock at least brushes against his prostrate. Thorin’s hands move to my shoulders and arched his back, gasping my name. I lick my lips, captivated at how gorgeous he is.

I rolled onto my back and helped him ride me, pushing myself deeper within him, allowing him to figure it out on his own while I continued driving us further and further…

I pet his thighs as they shook from exertion as he rode me. It was a little clumsy and his cheeks were tinged, but it didn’t make him any less appealing. He closed his eyes, as if trying to hide his embarrassment and I touch his cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, moving my hand to cup the back of his head and pull him down for a kiss. “I love you, Thorin,” I whisper against his lips, before letting him claim them. I rolled him back onto his back and fisted his cock, quickening my own pace.

He squeezed around me when he came, bringing on my own completion. For a few moments, I catch my breath before separating our bodies. I dispose of the condoms and curl beside him, resting my head on his shoulder.

~~~

I cough a laugh.

“What?”

“Hear that? No roommates being dicks,” I said. “I love it!” Thorin shook his head and I kiss him again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, arm wrapped around my waist and hand stroking my hip. “And I need to get up and brush my teeth at least.”

I grin. “Is it that hard to move?”

“A bit. Lying on my arm does not exactly help.”

My grin widens. “I’m not moving,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him and getting more comfortable. He pulls his arm free and turns on his side facing me. “What? Not going to brush your teeth?”

“Maybe later.”

I touch his cheek again and trade lazy kisses till sleep claimed us. Likely we’ll regret neglecting to brush our teeth in the morning…


	20. Chapter 20

Hudson Valley College is, as most colleges are, a maze of buildings that are near impossible to navigate. Thankfully, I got a map from the Administration Building, directing me to Brahan Hall. Once at the English Department, I was nearly knocked down by a student in a black hoodie and jeans. Her sneakers were dirty and scuffed against the floor and her hair was tied back in a messy bun.

“Sorry,” she said, steadying me. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” I said, straightening my waistcoat. “I’m looking for Professor Erestor Istyar.”

“Oh! He’s in his office still,” she pointed down the hall. “It’s the last door on your right.”

I thank her and knock on the door. A tired voice bid me to enter and I stepped inside.

The office was ridiculously small. The window was covered in dusty blinds. To the left of the window was a bookshelf stacked top to bottom with course books. The desk was in an L shape, computer pressed to the right wall and covered in papers stuffed in manila folders. There were a couple free chairs on the end of the desk nearest the door—for students, I suppose—and beside the door was another bookshelf, also packed with books.

Erestor Istyar was a tall, willowy man with sharp cheek and jaw bones, with dark eyes just as sharp albeit tired. He grinned at me, and it helped the sternness of his appearance, but only _just_. “Bilbo Baggins, it is an honor to meet you.”

I blushed. “I’m not J.K. Rowling, you know.”

“True, but unlike J.K. Rowling, you’re here and it is still an honor,” he said. “The school’s Pride Alliance has been ecstatic since I announced that you’d be reading some of your new work.” The last book of poetry I published came out a month ago and a couple of them…well, I’m not sure how they’d like those.

“I see.”

“It’s brilliant. Are you branching out into religion?”

“Er, not really…sort of…” I swallow and tug on my tie. “I mean, I do have history with the Church, but, erm…it’s not entirely good history and my partner’s a Christian, so I guess he’s been influencing my work a little bit…”

“You publish your essays too, don’t you?”

“Erm, they do get organized every year into published books and e-books, but…for the most part, I just post them online. Why?”

He hummed. “No reason, consider it a surprise for later.”

“I don’t really like surprises.” And I’m not sure I’m really going to like this surprise. Erestor waves me off and leads me to one of the auditoriums downstairs.

The room is packed with students and teachers alike. Erestor introduces me and I step up to the podium. I give a quick speech about being honored in the invitation to speak and recite a couple poems before answering a few questions.

“Can you read us your poem on page 25?” a girl asked. I turn to it and almost feel sick. It’s one of the poems Thorin inspired me to write, “wittingly” titled _Unlearned_. I accidently sent it to my editor. He liked it, though I don’t know why. I looked up again. Everyone is waiting…

“Sure,” I said, licking my lips and took a breath:

_For ages and ages, it seems I’ve felt condemned._

_And for what?_

_The fire has charred my skin till a healing hand_

_Reached down and touched me._

_I’ve not done wrong. The love I feel is to be celebrated._

_But somehow, this world celebrates evil._

_It celebrates hatred._

_What sort of legacy does that leave?_

_When did we let evil become stronger than us?_

_Are we not a part of this world?_

_Is its fate—the fate of our children—in our hands?_

_The way they see the world is entirely based on how we see it._

_How do we unlearn the evils of our fathers?_

_How do we cleanse the black spot?_

_Every decision we make, every choice we act upon_

_Reflects our inner nature._

_Love is natural. It is real. But hate? Hate is learned._

_Hate is taught. Hate is unnatural._

_Do not look me in the eye and tell me this is not our war._

_Do not look at me and tell me this is not our fight._

_Many people have said:_

_“These feelings you have, this desire, is sin.”_

_But now I know, it is not._

_Now I know where the real sins lie._

_I will not be lied to anymore._

I look up, awaiting the riot that was bound to happen. Instead, I am startled by the sniffling and there are several teary eyes.

What did I just do?

#

“You seemed uncomfortable reading that last poem,” Erestor said.

“Uh, well, most of the audience, I suppose, had issues with Christianity and it was a bit…close,” I said, raising my coffee cup to my lips to avoid talking more.

“Really?” he asked. “I didn’t notice. True, there was a bit of Christian imagery there, but otherwise, it seemed people needed to hear that message. It’s different from what you usually write.”

“I know. It wasn’t even supposed to be in the book, but…”

“The theme of your book is about strength, any kind of strength. Right?”

I wave my hand in a so-so motion. “Perseverance, actually,” I said, lowering the cup. “Which is a kind of strength in of itself. It’s not my best…nor my favorite.”

“ _Are we not a part of this world_?” he quoted. “It hits you, calls for action. It almost felt like a declaration of war.” I hummed. That’s true. “Ready for your surprise?”

“No,” I said.

“When the English Department learned that you were moving to Albany, we figured we’d ask you to come by and read for us, but not long after, one of our professors decided to retire to Florida with his wife.”

I stare at him, trying (and failing) not to gape at him. “This was a job interview?”

“In a sense,” Erestor said.

“I’m not a teacher.”

“Thankfully a teaching degree isn’t always required for the college level.”

“Yeah, that was one of the things I hated about teaching on the college level.”

“You’re a good writer.”

“Yeah, a good writer, not a teacher in anyway,” I said. “Are you all mad?” He handed me a packet. “What is that?”

“Just a bit about the job,” he said. “At least think it over,” he said. “Okay?”

I sighed. “Fine. I will think it over.” I took the packet. “But tell me, you have people who are actually trying to get the job?”

“We do.”

“But you want me.”

“Yeah.”

“If I say no.”

“I’m pretty sure you won’t.”

I glare at him. “Pretty presumptuous of you.”

“You make a decent living with your writing, but sometimes having something else _really_ helps. Don’t you think? This way, you aren’t living solely on commissions from the royalties and your blog.”

I think about the new house and try not to let out a pained groan. It’s like he’s psychic. “All right, I will look at it, but do _not_ get your hopes up.”

Erestor just smirks at me and one of the students from the Pride Alliance approached me, asking about perhaps going to one of their meetings.

#

When I told Thorin about the unexpected offer, he didn’t seem as surprised as I thought he would. I cross my arms and look at him. “Did you know about this?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Thorin.”

“I swear I did not know. I know you were worried about paying for everything and it was stressing you out, so…”

I groan. “If you say you prayed about it…”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked.

“This is just a coincidence,” I snapped. “It’s not some divine intervention.”

“Why not?” he asked. “I believe it is. You can believe it’s coincidence if you want. But you are worried about having enough money to pay for the house. Why not just take the job? It’d solve that problem. And my internship is paid— _barely_. But still paid.”

I slump my shoulders. “Look, I’ll think about it.”

“You go ahead and do that Professor Baggins.”

I glare at him and lightly smack the back of his head. What? He was being a jerk!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize for the bad poetry.


	21. Chapter 21

I review the packet again that weekend after checking the bank. There’s barely enough to get us through the next week and I don’t know what to do.

They need a creative writing teacher. I massage my forehead, waiting for the headache to die down. I look at my computer again and send Erestor a message:

_You win. I’m interested in the job. It is just Creative Writing, right? What do I have to do next? -  Bilbo Baggins_

Once sent, I went to make something to snack on before wondering at my next thing at HVC.

Through my head runs fantasies of teaching run through my head. As all fantasies, it seems great, but I know that realistically, it’s going to take a lot more work and far more time…

But one thing is certain: I will NOT be that English teacher who gives exams. Final projects and portfolios all around! And grades?

Ugh…

I return to the computer and to see that I’ve got a new message from Erestor:

_The dean would like to meet with you. Can you meet on Monday around 4 PM?_

I write it into my planner (really, it’s just for show and to keep a record of when I need to hand my work over to my publisher…okay, I write down other things too. The anniversary of Dwalin’s death is written in as well as birthdays, the date of Bofur’s and Nori’s wedding…you get the idea) and send a reply.

I don’t believe this is an opportunity that dropped from the sky. It was a coincidence. It _had_ to be. Even if there’s a little voice in the back of my head whispering _is it_ to me.

I stretch and finish my sandwich before reminding myself I had an essay that needs to be done for my blog and the sooner I get it done, the sooner I can post it…

#

My interview ended up being much better than I thought. The office, like Erestor’s is small, but it’s something to start with as well as show me which classes I’d be teaching, beginning Wednesday:

Five one-hundred level creative writing classes and two two-hundred level classes.

All writing.

No grammar or composition.

Works for me, so long as I don’t have to review it with my students…

The only downside is that I wouldn’t be teaching until after midterms in late October. Thorin and I know that we’ll be in New York that weekend to visit Dwalin’s grave—there was no way we’d be able to visit him on the actual day he died.

But otherwise, that means figuring out what Erestor had already covered with the students and where they’ll end. He agreed to help me out for the remainder of the semester and after that, well…

Once I’m home, I find Thorin at the kitchen table, doing homework. I kissed his cheek.

“How’d it go?” he asked as I pulled chicken breasts out of the refrigerator.

I make sure he can’t see the smirk on my face. “It sucked. Royally. I don’t know why you and everyone there though I could do this. Teach, I mean. It just…”

Thorin embraced me. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

I kissed him again, grinning.“Just pulling your leg,” I said. “I got the job and I don’t start till late October, but I have the time to get used to the campus and personalize my new office.”

Thorin slapped my butt and returned to his homework. I was going to make a comment about how kinky that was, but the look on his face stopped me.

“It was just a joke,” I said, starting to feel a little bad. “How about you? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said. “If you don’t count my grandfather calling me today to tell me not to come to the Halloween party.” Now I do feel bad.

“He did that?”

“Well, Dad called me about half an hour after and told me we _could_ come and not to pay my grandfather any mind, but it doesn’t…”

I hug him, resting my chin on his shoulder.

“No, it doesn’t. And we should go. At least to show that his disapproval means nothing to us. He can’t dictate what we do or where we go. No one can tell us we can’t do anything.” I tighten my arms around his torso. “I love you, Thorin.”

“Maybe he just needs…”

“Thorin, your grandfather may be old and he may be set in his ways, but you are his _grandson_. It shouldn’t matter to him what your sexuality is or even who you fall in love with.”

“Your father eventually learned to get over it.”

“Yeah. He did. And it took me a long time to get over my anger at him…I’m still angry at him, to be honest,” I sighed. “I came out when I was still a kid and I was still struggling with who I was myself.”

_I needed my dad to be there for me and instead he tossed me aside…_

I close my eyes, trying to hold back my tears.

“I love you,” I whispered, kissing Thorin’s cheek before releasing him to make dinner in hopes that cooking would relieve me of a little bit of the anger I feel.

And it had been such a good day otherwise.

#

We met Mom and Clarissa at the train station on Friday.

I have to say, the two of them together sort of scares me and from the look Thorin has on his face when he sees them together, I fear he feels the same. Mom took Thorin’s arm while Clarissa took mine.

“We’ll be meeting Thrain at the Black Iris for dinner,” Clarissa said. “Gandalf and Bella’s parents will be there.” I wince and whisper an apology to Thorin. The last time he met my grandparents…

It was uncomfortable.

Still, Mom asked questions and I had to deter her with promises to announce it later at dinner.

The Black Iris was a brick building with green awnings at the corner of Dekalb Ave and Clermont Ave. Close by to it was Fort Greene Park. And south of it was the Queen of All Saints Church. Inside, the walls were still brick and the floor was black tiled. We were lead to a table for eight (actually it was a two tables pushed together so to seat everyone) where Thrain, my grandparents, and Gandalf sat.

Thrain greeted Clarissa with a kiss. Thorin and I both embraced my grandparents and shook Gandalf’s hand.

Thrain mumbled something to Thorin before patting his shoulder, giving him a fatherly shake. Thorin gave him a small smile and nodded once before sitting again.

“What was that about?”

“Halloween.”

“Oh. All okay?”

“Yeah. We’re going.” I arch a brow and shrug, handing him a menu. My phone vibrates in my coat pocket and I pull it out.

“Bilbo…” Nana snaps.

“I’m expecting a call from my editor,” I assure her. “We haven’t even ordered yet, Nan.” It’s an unknown text and my heart stops for half a beat.

 _He wouldn’t dare_. At least I hope he wouldn’t. I put it away instead.

“What is it?” Thorin asked. I shrugged.

“I haven’t checked,” I said. “Could just be Nori or Bofur wanting to know about tomorrow. Or Balin. We’re meeting him and Dequan at the cemetery and having lunch with them.”

“How are we going to get away with eating out everywhere this weekend?”

I grin. “Think of it this way: you’ll be dying for something home cooked by the time we go home.”

The waiter arrives, taking down an order of hot mint tea and spring water for everyone. But deep down, we all are going to order different things of varying degrees of difficulty.

It begins with Nana getting a chicken ouzi special. Make it two when he turns to my grandfather. Thrain gets the falafel sandwich and Clarissa the chicken gyro. Mom gets a vegetable kabob and Gandalf a falafel. Thorin and I decide to get pitzaas (we’d share, but they’re ten inches. Far too small to share…). Mine is the sundried and Thorin gets the lambajin pitzaa.

“So are you two getting married any time soon?” Nana asked. Mom and Clarissa smirk and Thrain nearly spits out his water. Gandalf has an annoying twinkle in his eye.

“Nan, Nori and Bofur are getting married. Thorin and I haven’t dated long enough to get married yet.”

“You’ve been together more than five years.” Any humor that had been with us disappeared at that moment. I look at Mom, who’s smirk had vanished.

“Nana? Um, that was Dwalin.”

She looks confused and then realization blooms on her face. “Oh, right. Of course. Sorry, boys.”

She sent us a grin, which I returned weakly. I was too scared to look at Grandpa after that. I don’t know if I can see the heartbreak on his face.

Announcing my new teaching job at the university a couple moments of silence after that brings conversation back to the table. For a brief time, I don’t have to wonder if my grandmother is getting sick.

When we leave the restaurant, Thorin and I promise to see Mom tonight at home and I finally check my messages.

_We’ll be together again soon._

I forward the text to Dori, letting him know that it’s starting again. But this time, I’m not letting Sméagol scare me. I just sigh and take Thorin’s hand in mine.

Come what may, I am ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Here. I give you feels...


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last update of 2014...0.0 
> 
> Whoa...this year has been eventful and chaotic in so many friggin' ways...

I don’t know what prompted me to get a bouquet, but Thorin waits for me out front of the shop while I put together a few white flowers enhanced with green. Baby’s breath and white roses around a single lily is held in my hand when I step out of the shop.

From there, we go to the cemetery and go to Dwalin’s grave.

Thorin squeezed my hand and I approached the stone.

_Dwalin Fundin_

_July 10 th, 1978-October 21st, 2013_

_We live together in happiness. We die together in peace._

I lay the flowers down, biting my lip. I close my eyes and take a shaky breath before almost stumbling back to my feet. Thorin’s arms wrapped around my waist and he hid his face against my shoulder.

I still miss him. Though he’s not always in my thoughts as much as he was last year at this time, a part of me died with him, I think. I don’t really know what sort of part of me died with him…

But as much as I wish I didn’t lose him, I’m glad to have met Thorin.

Does that make any sense?

“How did you find out he was dead?” I asked.

Thorin didn’t respond.

“A letter came in the mail for me,” I said. “Telling me what had happened to him. It came on the day he was supposed to come home…I was extremely fucked up back then. Not just because of what happened to him but in general. I was so angry all the time…”

“Balin came to me personally, asking me to help him convince the bishop to let us use the church for Dwalin’s funeral,” Thorin said. “I was told if I wanted to have my friend’s funeral here so badly, I could lead it myself. I agreed, even though I wasn’t sure I could do it. So, I decided I couldn’t mourn until after the whole thing—service and the reception…all of it—otherwise I’d probably not be able to lead it. Let alone lead it sober.”

I look at him. “You? Drunk?”

“I’m not a saint. I drink. At the time, I did not, could not believe. And after I met you, I did go ahead and get drunk, but other than that, I had a feeling I’d see you again. I just didn’t know when.”

Thorin hugged me tighter.

“He loved you, Bilbo. It would be impossible not to.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there that would disagree,” I said.

“Well, maybe, but that’s not what I mean. I love you. You’re smart, funny, and sexy…but more than that, you have a big heart and you are very strong. You’re courageous, and I might not know what would go through his mind when he looked at you, but I do know he probably wondered how he could deserve someone like you. I wonder it myself. You’re everything I could ever want in a partner, Bilbo. I’m confident Dwalin felt the same.”

“Bilbo!”

Someone ran into my leg and hugged it. Looking down at my attacker, I return Dequan’s bright grin with one that I wish could be as right.

“Hi, Bilbo!”

“Hey, kid,” I said as Thorin greeted Balin. “What brings you here today? I thought you’d be coming on the twenty-first,” I said, arching a brow at Balin.

“That was the original plan. Work got in the way. What about you two?”

“Bilbo starts his new teaching job at Hudson Valley College on the twentieth,” Thorin said, drawing him into a conversation about Albany. Dequan sets a letter down and starts telling me about how school’s treating him. When I ask if the bullying’s stopped, he got quiet and shook his head. I sighed.

“Bullying?” Thorin asked. Dequan blanches and I stood.

“Remember when I caught Fili fighting?”

“It had to do with that?” Thorin asked, anger bubbling under the surface. It’s in his eyes more than it is in his voice. He led Balin away, perhaps to have a few words with him about this situation.

“How about at home? Is everything okay there?”

“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging.

“Does Balin let you go to the Mosque?”

Dequan nodded. “But I still have to go to church on Sundays.”

“Which one works better for you?” He shrugged again. “Would you rather go to a different school?”

“But then I wouldn’t be able to see Kili and Fili.”

“I’m sure you could still see Kili and Fili,” I said. “Thorin’s their uncle, remember? And their mother’s nice enough, right? They would make sure you two could see each other regardless where you go to school. But overall, your safety is what’s more important. Not what you believe.”

Dequan nodded and smiled. It’s like he’s trying to assure me that everything is all right even though he knows that I know it’s not.

I have to remind myself that there was a time I didn’t want to open up either, that I felt that…hiding my pain, internalizing it rather than speaking out. I pat his back. “You can talk to me and Thorin whenever you like, okay, kid?”

“Okay,” he said. He looked at me. “Were you in love with Dwalin?”

Well, that was not expected. “I was, in some ways I still am.”

“Why? Everywhere I go, people say it’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is the interpretation,” I said, leading him to one of the benches. “Thorin would be able to explain that better than I can. But I didn’t chose to be gay. No one chooses to be gay or straight or Trans…it’s just who they are. It isn’t something that you can turn on and off like a light bulb. Way I see it is that many religions do not address it properly—including Islam and Christianity. But for me, I decided I was not going to live a lie. I am attracted to men and I’ve had some good relationships and some bad relationships. Before Dwalin died, we were thinking about getting married. We had been together for a long time. Look, it doesn’t matter if someone likes boys or girls. There are even people out there who feel they’ve been born in the wrong body and that needs to be respected. The thing about religion is that…it gives hope, but it’s also been the cause of a lot of hurt. For me, it had hurt. But since I started dating Thorin, I learned some things that I had, actually, probably forgotten. Namely that, if there is a god, he doesn’t make mistakes. If someone is meant to be gay, then that was intentional. If someone is trans, that is intentional. Many people like me have been hurt very badly because people think we’re just trying to get attention or that we’re selfish and that’s not the case at all. If it was a choice, why would we choose to be hated and persecuted?”

Dequan shrugged. “So it’s not a bad thing?”

“There’s nothing bad about being gay at all. Absolutely nothing. Now where have you been hearing this? School? Balin?”

“Balin doesn’t talk about it. Fili and Kili are being bullied too because they have a gay uncle.”

 _Oh for the love of…_ “Do their parents know?” Dequan shook his head. “Would you like me to let them know?” His eyes widened and he shook his head. “Okay,” I said. “But you have to. You could really help Fili and Kili if you do.”

“But they won’t believe me.”

“I promise you, they will. I do. And Thorin does. He’s Fili and Kili’s uncle. Trust me, kid. The only thing that’s wrong is that you’re being bullied.”

I embraced him and not for the first time I wondered if I had made the right decision to let Balin have custody of him.

Maybe it was a mistake, but what would happen if I challenged him? Could I do it? Would I be able to do this? Raise a kid? To be honest, I really do not know. I do not see myself as parent material. I never have and the prospect of even _trying_ kind of frightens me.

Thorin and Balin are approaching us, so I assume it’s time to say goodbye. I give Dequan another hug and shake Balin’s hand before leaving with Thorin.

“So," I said, "what did you discuss with him?”

“Apart from doing something about the bullying problem at school? Not much. He has been trying to do something about it, though. He doesn’t think Dequan needs to leave the school. Rather the opposite.”

“So something is being done about it?”

“He’s trying, at least, and that is what matters. Raising a kid, even a preteen, that’s not easy. Add a bullying problem and God only knows…”

“Fili and Kili are being tormented too.”

“I know,” he said.

“Do their parents?”

He hummed affirmatively. I lay my head on his shoulder. “Why keep them in school then?”

“Because they are not the ones who need to leave,” Thorin said. “It’s who’s bullying them. If we pull any of them out, what would that do but teach that it’s better to walk away when it’s more important to stand one’s ground.”

“I just don’t know if it’s worth it?”

Thorin nodded. “It’s easier said than done. So, you and Dequan looked like you were having a good talk.” I chuckled.

“Yeah, he had some questions that were…not expected.”

“Such as?”

“You and me, me and Dwalin, the morality of it. He didn’t say anything that would be hurtful,” I assured Thorin when a thunderous look appeared. “Just that he was confused and he wanted to know what to believe. I told him you were the one to actually ask, but I think I did pretty well.”

“I’m sure you did,” Thorin said, kissing me. “What’s next?”

“We’re meeting Bofur and Nori in Central Park then heading to South Gate for dinner around eight tonight, so we’ve time to go to my mom’s and get ready for dinner.”

“South Gate?”

“Yeah. Its classy. Thank god for suits.”

“Is it really that classy?” I pull my phone out and look up the restaurant, showing him the photos. “Okay, then. It is classy.”

“They have something to tell me and, apparently, it’s not the kind of thing they can just announce over the phone.”

“They decided to have a baby on top of getting married,” Thorin joked.

I slap his arm before wrapping my arm around it. Not that I can’t imagine them having a baby. I expect them to one day, but I hope they decide to get through the wedding first. I can’t imagine juggling a marriage and adoption at the same time.

“Maybe you’re the best man," Thorin said.

“Maybe…” I wouldn’t be surprised if I was.


	23. Chapter 23

We were late meeting Bofur and Nori for dinner and while Thorin hurried into his suit, I texted them to know we were running behind. I hand Thorin his coat, shouting a quick goodbye to Mom before we left. We rushed to the subway to catch the next train toward Central Park. Just a few minutes after we were expected, we arrive.

“Oh, late indeed,” Bofur said, snorting. “Five minutes past the hour, I’m shaking with rage.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, fixing Thorin’s tie and smoothed it down. “Where’s Nori?”

“Getting our table,” Bofur said.

The restaurant’s exterior was a white building with large windows going from the floor to the ceiling. Bofur led us inside and the glow of amber lights welcomed us, same as the maître d, who led us to the table Nori got for us. Men and women alike lounged at the bar. There were several businessmen and women discussing whatever it is they like to discuss over their meals. And there were some here for entertainment, thinking of catching a play on Broadway, likely, or the opera or orchestra.

Nori sat at one of the booths. The seat was a cream white leather behind a round, light brown wood table. In the center was a vase of pink tulips. Around that were four glasses and cloth napkins wrapped around silverware. Behind him was a mirror mosaic reflecting different images back at us. Square lanterns hung from the ceiling.

His hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, was left down, just brushing against his shoulders. Bofur sat on his right while Thorin and I slid onto the left side.

“Five minutes late,” Nori asked, passing out the menus. “For shame, Bilbo.”

“We were ten minutes or so late getting out the door! I was expecting to be much later than we ended up being! Am I ever going to live this down?”

“No,” they said.

I rolled my eyes and Thorin kissed my cheek. Small comfort for the teasing I’m likely to suffer through tonight, but I will be content with that for now.

“I already ordered the wine,” Nori said, “Pinot Grigio okay?”

This is met with affirmatives and when our waiter returns with the wine, filling our glasses and we thanked him, getting a baby Caesar salad to split (I almost got French onion soup instead, but decided against it. Salad would at least not fill me up.)

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Thorin asked.

“Not bad,” Bofur said. “We got a venue set up and Bombur’s sent us three different cake designs that we still need to decide on. But we have yet to decide on what we’ll be doing for dinner.”

“Outside of Bombur catering?” I asked.

They nodded and the salad arrived. Once the waiter left again, giving us more time to decide on our main food, the conversation continued from when they would be going to Men’s Wearhouse (they decided to stick with a traditional white and black, with silver and red) to get their tuxes taken care of and to picking a wedding invitation format.

The waiter returned at last and we ordered:

Bofur decided on the veal chop. Nori asked for the Pacific Wild King Salmon, Thorin and I decided to share the Free Range Chicken.

“For the menu, I would go for Bombur’s classic dishes. The spaghetti, the ham, deviled eggs.”

“Well, the spaghetti and ham are both main menu things,” Nori sighed.

“Ham,” Thorin said. “Go for the ham. There’s less of a chance of getting marinara sauce on your clothes.” Bofur and Nori stared at Thorin as though he was Einstein.

“I could kiss you,” Bofur said. “I won’t, but I could.”

“In lieu with that, consider white wine for adults and sparkling cider as a non-alcoholic beverage.”

Nori pulled out a notebook from behind him (I didn’t even notice it) and started taking notes on a sheet of paper, jotting down the menu suggestions.

“What about for the salad,” Nori asked us. “I was thinking Bombur’s cranberry salad, but…”

Thorin decided to hide behind the wine while I peered at the folder with him. Ham, white wine, sparkling cider…

“Ask Bombur if there’s a possibility for a cake with berries on it. Raspberries and chocolate would be good for the cake—white frosting though—and that wouldn’t be too much of a contrast with cranberry salad and ham. How about adding French bread with some oil to go with it?”

“Why did you leave us?” Nori asked, jotting down the other suggestions.

“Because it had to be done eventually and I _didn’t_ leave you guys. Only in the physical sense.”

Thorin snorted. “I thought you would be the one carrying that around,” he said to Bofur, who shrugged.

“We both take turns looking through it,” he said, “but for whatever reason, he is more excited by the menu.” Nori and I ignore them, tallying how much is there. And of course, we both agreed that this was completely tentative, though the idea of keeping clothes clean was a good one.

“And we won’t know how much to feed until we get the invitations out,” Nori sighed, frowning. “It won’t be big: friends and family only. But you know…”

“Yes, Nori, I do,” I said, patting his shoulders. “We’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

Thorin furrowed his brow. “What do you mean you know?”

I blush and tug at my collar. “There may or may not have been times I scoured the internet looking at wedding invitation templates and cakes,” I admitted. Thorin hummed and kissed me.

“That is adorable,” he said. Once our dinners arrive, Nori tucked the folder away and we began to eat. While Thorin and I ate off the same plate, it was always an entertaining thing to watch Nori and Bofur steal food off each other’s plates.

“Didn’t you say once that we were cuter,” I asked. Nori and Bofur looked at us. “The tables have turned and I’m not sure to react.”

“Well, I know what we’re doing,” Nori said, “gloating.”

Thorin, the wiser of the two of us it seems, decided to put his foot down. “We are not starting a food fight,” he said. Nori and Bofur deflated, but I rubbed his arm.

“I promise we are more mature than this,” I said, feeding him a little chicken. He took it and for the love of all that is good, he is _not_ allowed to be that sexy when he eats off my fork! It is not good for my health, I swear! I turn to my friends again. “So, other than the wedding, anything going on?”

“No, not really,” Nori said.

“Well, to be honest, we did have one thing we really wanted to discuss with you, Bilbo,” Bofur said. “Sadly, we couldn’t agree on whose best man you’d be, so we decided to just have Ori and Bifur fill in there and we were hoping you’d be okay being the ring bearer.”

Ring bearer?

“I’m little too tall for that, don’t you think.”

“You could walk on your knees,” Nori said, smirking. Bofur snorted and I arched a brow, unimpressed. “Please? This way you can be up there with us and we don’t have to rely on Bifur and Ori to hold onto the wedding bands.”

I chew contemplatively, quite aware that they’re waiting for me to give them an answer. Still, the _ring bearer_? Normally that’s a kid, isn’t it? I sigh.

“Sure,” I said at last. “I’d be honored to hold onto your jewelry.”

I didn’t expect them to be so ecstatic, but I get sandwiched in a rather awkward hug and Thorin gives me a closed mouth smile and does nothing to help me. I feel like a disgruntled cat putting up with his owner’s affection. I probably look like a disgruntled cat too.

After dinner, we decide to top it off with a chocolate napoleon and mint tea.

#

Erestor met me in my new office, where I was banging my head against the table. I miss being able to set my own hours and wonder WHY THE FUCK I had the brilliant idea of ten am classes. I should’ve made them at noon.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, “Just need more coffee.”

“Welcome to college.”

“Welcome _back_ , you mean,” I said, standing and gathering my notes for the next class, "I’m just so…tired, really. I forgot what it was like here.”

“Well, you’re on the other side of the podium now,” he said. “How does that feel.”

“Other than terrifying?”

“Especially other than that.”

I hum. “Good, I think. Once you get past the whole being stared at for an hour.”

“What? No two-hour classes?”

“As much as I liked them being a bit more inconsistent, I _hated_ them,” I said. “I would rather have four or five classes an hour long each week than have two classes a week…you know what I mean?"

“I do.”

“I don’t like that. They won’t like that…it works better in the long run.”

Erestor nodded. “When’s your last class?”

“At five,” I said, checking my watch. “And then I have to get home to make dinner. Why?”

“Just curious.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. I notice the ring on his finger. “Are you married?” I asked, blinking. I didn’t notice it before.

Erestor blushed and nodded. “Two years married, been together about six. My husband’s a nutritionist and trainer at Sweeney’s Boxing and Fitness,” he said.

I grinned. “How’d you two meet?”

“Well, he was actually taken some classes here and he was in my Ancient Literature class.”

“Ah, not as charged as how I met my boyfriend. First time was at my previous partner’s funeral. Then we lost touch after and the following spring I accidently ran into him, spilling coffee on his coat. I felt terrible and offered to wash it and got him a cup at home.” It’s a little cliché, now that I think about it.

“Cute.”

“Maybe, but you dated a student.”

“He wasn’t my student when he asked me out,” Erestor said, smirking. “And coffee wasn’t even needed.” I blushed. “Oh, there’s a faculty mixer on Saturday if you and your boyfriend want to come.” I tell him I’ll think about it and we went our separate ways.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Another blocked call. I decide not to check it.

If it’s Sméagol, again, I won’t be able to do anything but keep looking over my shoulder and I’d rather not face that when I have to classes to worry about.

So I meet with my students and hand out the syllabi.

Regardless who texted me, this day _will_ be as normal as I can hope it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> South Gate: http://www.marriott.com/hotel-restaurants/nycex-jw-marriott-essex-house-new-york/southgate-bar-&-restaurant/5433599/home-page.mi


	24. Chapter 24

I frowned at the costume in front of me, and sent Dis my most scathing glare. It’s usually rather effective, but apparently _not_ on this woman.

“Seriously?”

“What? I got something similar for Thorin—”

“And Thorin will likely _look_ good in a gangster costume? I’m going to look like a cartoon character!”

“Well, maybe I _should’ve_ gotten you a duck bill then,” she snapped back, fixing her Sally wig.

I stare at my costume again. It’s a pinstripe pant and waist coat set with a black shirt and a white tie. She got us _matching hats…_ black fedoras. And the _shoes_ …ugh.

Víli and Thorin came downstairs. Thorin was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and red tie. His hair was slicked back as he put on the fedora. And Víli was dressed as Jack the Pumpkin King. I excused myself to go put on my own gangster costume.

“Fili! Kili!” Víli shouted. “Come on, we got to go if we want to get the best candy!”

I was nearly barreled down by Jack Sparrow (Kili) as he raced downstairs, followed by Winter Solder Bucky (Fili).

I sighed and entered the bathroom, changing into the costume and heading downstairs.

“Oh good, you’re ready,” Frerin said outside the door. He’s dressed in a black and red vampire count costume. “I figured I’d help you and Thorin spice your costume up with these,” he hands me a pair of vampire fangs.

“Did you convince Thorin to wear these?”

“Not yet. I’m hoping you’ll help me.”

“Sorry, not interested. Save them for later or in case your own fangs fall out.”

Frerin pouted. “Don’t be like that,” he said, hooking his arm around mine. “You and Thorin can be my pimped out vampire gangsters.”

“The only one pimped out here is yourself,” I said.

“Is there a particular reason you’ve glued yourself to my boyfriend?” Thorin asked, arching a brow.

“No, he’s just cuddly like that,” Frerin said.

I freed myself from Frerin and kissed Thorin’s cheek. “Are we ready?”

“We are,” he said, taking my hand. With that, Halloween began. Fili and Kili ran from door to door putting on their best grins for the neighbors.

“I thought Fili would be a bit old for trick or treating,” I said.

“Oh, he thinks he is,” Dis said, smiling. “But he told Kili he’d still trick or treat with him until Kili outgrew it himself. Besides, if there is one thing no one outgrows, it is candy.”

Well, I can’t argue with that. “Will they also be going to that…company party?”

“We only go for appearance’s sake,” Dis explained. “Especially lately with the way our grandfather’s been. Mom and Dad will be staying the whole time, but Víli and I haven’t done that for years. We do this, go there, to say hi, then half an hour or so later, we go home to put the boys to bed. Or we used to. We tend to stay longer these days since the boys are older.”

That makes sense, though given it’s Friday, they’ll probably stay long. But how long will Thorin and I be able to stay before we’re kicked out?

Once the boys have filled their Halloween buckets, we head to the party. The candy is hidden in the car and we go inside. Thorin takes my hand in his and kisses me before we enter. “I love you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “No matter what is said in there, no matter what happens, remember that.”

I nod, smiling. “I love you, too.”

“It isn’t too late to put on fangs!” Frerin said.

Thorin sighed. “On another note, I’d like to sell a little brother.”

“Post it on Craig’s List,” I said with a grin. I kiss him and we enter the ballroom. Clarissa was already talking to Fili and Kili about how they enjoyed trick-or-treating tonight while Víli went to get drinks for him and Dis. Where Frerin had run off to, I don’t know.

“Thorin!” Thrain said, stalking toward us. “Good to see you. And you, too, Bilbo.” He gave my hand a firm shake and patted my shoulder. “Feel free to the buffet table.”

“And grandpa?”

“Let me worry about him,” Thrain said. “Just enjoy yourself.” Thorin nodded and squeezed my hand.

“Find a table. I’ll get something for us to drink.”

I nodded and let go of his hand, making my way toward the tables. I find one in the back. It should be hidden enough and I put my phone on the table before sitting down. Kili sat beside me and stretches, yawning.

“How are you doing?”

“Good. Tired,” he said, laying his chin on the table. “I don’t like these parties. There’s nothing to _do_.”

“Well, you got to go trick or treating. That’s something, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

My phone rang and I picked it up. “Hello?” No response. Just silence. “Who is this?” Still nothing. Then dial tone. I hang up.

“Bilbo?” I look at Kili and force a smile.

“It’s nothing,” I said, hoping to reassure him. It likely didn’t work. Kili’s smarter than he looks, but he doesn’t question me, for which, I’m grateful. I don’t know how I’d explain it if I could, but I keep scanning the room, looking for Sméagol. There are too many people in masks here. I send Dori a quick text about Sméagol possibly being here and leave it at that.

Thorin finds us and arches a brow at Kili. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping Bilbo company,” he said. “And chaperoning you two.”

“Since when do we need a chaperone?” Thorin asked.

“Since Fili’s busy trying to make sure Mom and Dad don’t make kissy faces, it is my sworn duty to make sure you two don’t make kissy faces.” And how does one _not_ laugh at that? How?!

Once we’ve calmed down, ignoring Kili’s indignant glares, Thorin pushed a plastic cup toward me. “There will be some dancing in a bit if you like,” he said. I nod, regardless of our reluctance toward being here, we are here and if Sméagol is here too…well, all the more reason for me to show that I’m not bothered by his presence. Fili joins us, sliding a paper plate with Halloween goodies toward Kili and hung a bag he certainly didn’t have before on the back of his chair.

“What’s that?” Kili asked. Fili grinned.

“Grandpa said we could teepee great-grandpa’s office if he did something he shouldn’t.”

Thorin groaned and I stood, pulling Thorin to his feet. “Get pictures for us if he does,” I said. Fili nodded, smirking. We went to the dance floor just as the music began. Thorin rested his hands on my hips and my hands lay on his shoulders, and we swayed to the gentle beat of _Devil or Angel_.

“Not bad so far, yeah?” Thorin asked.

“I’d rather not wait for the other shoe to drop.”

“It won’t. My Dad coerced Fili and Kili to do something they shouldn’t. I’m sure he’s telling my grandfather about that now if he hasn’t already. And knowing the boys, they’ll probably teepee his office anyway.”

“I really want to see that. Not that I think it’s smart but…”

“Well deserved.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a little guilty. It’s funny. Well, not funny, per say. More ironic. Maybe. Those who’ve wronged me before, judged me before…I never felt bad for them, but with Thror and Inez, all I feel is pity now. They’re old and set in their ways and I can understand that. At the same time, holding onto tradition and old laws can only hurt others and it has proven to hurt others. I move my hands to around his neck and his gentle grip tightens just a little.

“I am sorry about him. I love my grandfather. We used to be close. But…” Thorin sighed. “I am sorry. I never thought he’d treat us the way he did…and does after I came out.”

“It is not your fault. You were honest with them. And you did nothing wrong. _We_ did nothing wrong. Let them see. I’m not ashamed and neither should you. I love you. That’s all that matters to me.” Thorin pressed his forehead to mine and I smiled at him again.

“You two are too cute,” Dis said, as she and Víli danced over to us. “Just adorable.”

“I’d rather just watch Frerin make an idiot of himself,” Víli admitted.

“That does have some merit,” I said, smiling at them. “How are your grandparents?”

“Kept busy. Mom and Dad have it under control.”

“Can I just say, apart from your grandparents, I _love_ your family.”

“We’re pretty cool,” Víli said. “No matter what Fili thinks. But what do we know? We’re parents.”

“And as a rule parents are not cool,” I said.

“But gay uncles are?” Thorin asked. “Cuz I’m pretty sure I’m _not_.”

“No, you’re a dork,” I assured him. Thorin arched a brow and I laughed and hugged him. Over his shoulder I see a zombie staring at me. It’s a full bodied costume and the mask is akin to a baby face. I blink and he’s gone.

“You’re quiet,” Thorin said. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said. I don’t want to worry him. “I’m glad to be here with you.” Thorin smiled. Definitely do not want to worry him, but I can’t deny that I’m getting scared again. What if Sméagol comes after me again? Should I tell him I think I’m being stalked again?

I banish the thought from my head and press my ear to Thorin’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat, and I vow to handle Sméagol if I must.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter. If you'd rather skip, go from ~ to ~

“ _We’re still looking, I’m afraid,_ ” Dori said. I massage my neck and lean against my desk. “ _But we can guess he’s in Albany and the police there are on it. Do you still have a police detail there_?”

“Uh…we’ve gotten used to ignoring them if they are. Look, if I feel bad, there’s campus security if nothing else.”

“ _Bilbo…_ ”

“I’ve not been paying attention. Between the still all too frequent trips back to New York City and my new job at the college, the only thing really keeping me from establishing a routine is Sméagol. And that’s if it’s him…it better be him.”

“ _Does Thorin know_?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t want him to know.”

“ _Are you sure that’s a good idea._ ”

“I don’t want to worry him needlessly,” I said with a defensive edge. “He’d never let me out of his sight and he’s his own work to do at med school and the situation with his grandparents hasn’t really…blown over yet.”

“ _You’re going through this alone, then._ ”

“No, I’m talking to you, about it, aren’t I?”

“ _I’m not the one who’s arms you go to for comfort, Bilbo. That would be Thorin and he deserves to know that you trust him enough to be there if things get tough_.”

“I do trust him, Dori. But I also love him and I can handle Sméagol.”

“ _He abducted you_!”

“And I got away.” The sound he made after was the odd coupling of a groan and a sigh. “He’s going on a Men’s Retreat this weekend, Dori.”

“ _Come down to New York then. Bofur and Nori will put you up. As will your mother and I if you like—_ ”

“No. I should, but no. I can’t live in fear of my own house, you know.”

“ _Bilbo, I strongly advise against staying there alone if Sméagol is closing in on you again._ ” He’s right and I know he’s right. I lean back in my seat and stare out the window.

“I know what you think I should do, but I don’t think that will give us an opening—”

“ _You are NOT using yourself as bait_!”

“But I don’t want to live looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. I can’t keep doing this, Dori. I can’t live in fear of my phone going off and having it be Sméagol texting me again—I just _can’t_.”

“ _I’ll come up and stay with you then. With Ori. He’d like to spend time with you again, I think. We both would. Nori hogs you enough._ ”

I snort. “You and Ori are welcome to stay here while Thorin’s on that retreat.”

“ _But I want you to tell him._ ”

“If I tell him, he’ll not go on the retreat and it’d be good for him to get to know his new congregation. The only one he knows in depth so far is my father and the only things they really have in common is their love for God and me. And possibly classic rock…but separated by generations. My Dad still listens to Elvis and Buddy Holly.”

“ _As opposed to ACDC and Metallica_.”

I smirk. “Don’t hate.”

“ _Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who said anything about hating? If you recall: I’m the one who got you, Bofur, and Nori into a Nirvana concert free of charge, remember?_ ”

“Oh yeah, that was you. And Nirvana’s from a completely different decade, you ass.”

“ _It was still free_.”

I roll my eyes. “And we love you for that, Dori, but I have a class to get to now, so…”

“ _Right. I’ll see you Friday night._ ”

“Sure. Bye.” Once the salutation was returned, I hung up and gathered my things for class, though my mind was on whether or not our spare room was ready for use.

#

Finding one’s lover stretched out on a couch fast asleep is usually a highlight and today was no different when I found Thorin laid out on the couch downstairs in the living room and drooling on one of the pillows with a throw blanket around his waist. I pull it up to his shoulders and kiss his cheek. Thorin groaned and shifted, opening his eyes.

“Welcome home,” he said groggily.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Well, you could’ve jumped on the couch like Kili used to. I much prefer waking up to being kissed by a gorgeous man.” He pushed himself up on his elbows and kissed me back.

“Need to tell you something,” I said. He hummed, waiting for me to speak. “While you’re on the retreat, Dori and Ori will be staying here.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure the guest room is ready.”

“I’ll worry about the guest room,” I promised. “And if nothing else, we do have an air mattress and a couch.”

“What’s bringing them to Albany, anyway?”

“Erm…Dori didn’t really say, but I’m guessing he wants me to help plan a bachelor party for Nori.”

Thorin frowned. Bachelor parties got a very bad reputation and so…well, it _was_ Dori. It is very unlikely that strippers will be involved. Not that Thorin would know that…“Likely we’ll just be marathoning the Godfather or other action movies.”

“You sure?”

“Dori’s not one for hiring strippers,” I said. “So I doubt we’ll be doing anything risqué for Nori’s bachelor party. Besides, Ori’s going to be there.”

“Ori’s eighteen.”

“Not to Nori and Dori,” I said. “As far as they’re concerned, he’ll always be the sweet, mild natured kindergartner. They’d feel awkward if they included him in anything mature. Miraculous they let him watch PG-13 movies. What do you want for dinner? I was going to make some pork chops.”

“Sounds good,” he said, sitting up. He pulled me into his lap. “But later?” It’s so cute how he’s still so tentative. I kiss him and climb off.

“Catch me first,” I said.

Thorin blinked and I bolted out of the living room, laughing. After a moment, Thorin’s was running after me, dodging around furniture and we both avoided the kitchen (too many bad things could happen in there). Eventually, he chased me up the stairs and I slipped. Thank god for the carpeting, otherwise my knees would be in more pain. He helped me up.

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

“Good,” he said before throwing me over his shoulder. I’m stunned. I didn’t realize he was strong enough to lift me and I can’t tell if I like it or not. A part of me feels a bit turned on and another part indignant. But then we’re in the bedroom and I’m dropped onto the mattress.

~

Thorin crawled between my legs and slid his hand under my shirt. I canted my hips against his, watching his pupils dilate, and smirked at him before pulling him down into a kiss, my hand gripping the back of his neck. Thorin’s hand grips my waist and the other holds him up above me. I push him onto his back so to straddle his waist and I pull his t-shirt before I discard my own. Thorin grabs my hips and sits up, kissing my chest. He sucks at my breast as his fingers undo the fly of my jeans and pull them down low enough for him to squeeze my ass.

I pull at his hair to catch his lips with mine again and I’m flipped back onto my back. Thorin pulled the rest of my clothes off and hooked his hands under my knees, propping them up on his shoulder, and dipped his head down. His hand gripped at the base of my cock and his mouth closed around the head of my cock. I sighed and lowered my hand, threading fingers around his hair. He hummed and bobbed his head, tongue sliding against the underside of my prick. My legs slid off his shoulders and my toes curled. I bit my lip and my free hand gripped at the sheets tightly. I gasped, spilling into his mouth.

Thorin’s teeth grazed at me sensitive skin as he released me, swallowing. He licked his lips and I moaned. Can’t be bothered to care how debauched I must look. “Can you turn onto your belly?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said. He grabbed my hips and flipped me onto my stomach pushing my legs apart again with his knees. “You’re quite…amorous this afternoon.”

“Nearly evening. Are you complaining?” He reached for the bedside table.

“No. Observing,” I mumbled. He brought over lube and a condom. I heard the packet rip and after a moment, a slick finger teased the entrance of my ass. Though I feel like jelly, I spread my legs a little more and push back on his finger, feeling it slide in. “Please,” I whispered. Thorin growled and eased another slickened finger into my hole. He alternated between stretching me and probing his fingers around. Once he fit a third finger into me, they brushed against my prostrate. Thorin kept them there, rubbing it and I could feel heat pulling into my cock again, not enough to really harden again, but still.

I bit the pillow to muffle my voice and Thorin kissed my shoulder before biting my ear. I shuddered beneath him and bit the pillow harder as he nibbled against my ear and rubbed the pad of his fingers against my prostrate. I ground my half-hard cock against the mattress, rocking my hips against Thorin’s hand. He kept his assault on my ear even as he pulled his fingers out and slicked his cock before pushing it inside me. I moaned and ground against his hips as he built a rhythm. His hand clasped my own, fingers entwined and panting in tandem. His free hand pulled my hips up so he could grip my penis and stroke it.

“Close,” he whispered. “So close.”

“Thorin,” I gasped. “Thorin…please…”

He growled again and I felt him tense, cock pulsing inside me, and I followed. He lay on top of me, arms and legs trembling, as he waited for the high to end. Then he pulled out, hissing. I missed his warmth and waited for him to return with a wash cloth. Instead, he helped me up and led me to the bathroom where the faucet ran in hopes of filling the tub.

~

Once in, I leaned against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m going to miss you this weekend,” he said. I hummed.

“Same,” I said. “I love you, Thorin.”

“I love you, too,” he said, tightening his hold around me. “So much. Maybe I should stay.”

“No,” I said. “Thorin, you should go on this retreat. Get to know these people. I promise you won’t regret it. Besides, it can’t be fun just knowing my Dad. You don’t have much in common with him.”

“No. I don’t,” he agreed. “At least we agree on theological…stuff.”

I laughed. “Right, that could be important.”

“You’ve no idea,” he said, kissing my cheek. I hummed, closing my eyes. “I just don’t want Sméagol to come after you while I’m away.” I tensed.

“What makes you think he’s still in New York?”

“Just a feeling,” he said. “I’m scared for you.” I turn my head and kiss him.

“Dori is a cop,” I reminded him. “And he’s visiting this weekend while you’re away. With his youngest brother. I promise if anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

He nodded and kissed me again. “Need help cooking dinner?”

“I’ll let you know when I can walk again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts updating on Tuesday's next week


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> graphic depictions of violence, attempted murder, and blood (and vomit, but I normally don't consider that a trigger...just in case)

The guest room was as put together as the two of us could get it before the retreat. All in all, I’m quite proud of it. It’s a full sized bed with white sheets and a matching down comforter. To make it a little less bland, we added a light blue-grey throw blanket. We also threw in a couple paintings and a mirror.

Shouldn’t be too bad, I suppose, and we also set up the air mattress for Ori so that he doesn’t have to sleep in the same bed as Dori (though it’s very likely Dori would have Ori sleep in the bed anyway…maybe. My family practiced a seniority pecking order when my parents were still together. A lot of vacations ended up with me sleeping on the couch or right in front of the fire as a kid).

Just as we finished with the air mattress, there was honking outside the house. Dad was here. “Not too late,” Thorin said, looking at me. I rolled my eyes and kissed him.

“Thorin, sweetie, _go_. There is a cop coming over with his little brother. I will be fine.”

“Well, they’re not here yet,” Thorin said.

“And it’s still light out,” I countered, kissing him. “Go. Have fun. I’m only going to be alone for another hour.” He still didn’t seem assured. “I’ll call when they get here, but you need to go on the retreat.”

“There’ll be others,” he said as I pushed him out of the room.

“And you still need to go.” The car honked again. “See? Dad agrees.”

“Fine,” we went to the front door and I kissed him one more time before he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Call me when Dori gets here,” he said. “And call me if there’s an emergency.”

“I will, but I’m sure you won’t be able to answer.”

“You might be surprised,” Thorin said before heading out to the car.

I leaned against the doorway and smiled at him as he climbed into the car. I wait till the car turns the corner and scan the street. The car outside out driveway, keeping watch is still there and I wonder if they ever go home or switch with anyone.

I close the door and wait decide to get them something to drink. It’s not like they don’t know me. Well, they don’t. But there have been times where they came in to use the bathroom, though not much else. I decide to check on them and set the kettle on.

The house is too quiet now that Thorin’s gone. I shake my head. _Get a grip, Bilbo Baggins!_ I snapped at myself. I massage the back of my neck. And pull out some chamomile tea and a pair of mugs. I pause, looking over my shoulder.

“Hello?”

I shake my head. _Need to get a fucking grip_ , I thought to myself. The kettle whistles and I turn to it again. God damn it, what is wrong with me? Okay, yes: there’s likely a madman obsessed with me after me. Yes: my boyfriend is off on a trip. But for Christ’s sake! I shouldn’t be feeling this…this… _haunted_.

I pour the tea and set the kettle aside on a cooler rack before grabbing a tray for the mugs—

A length of rope latched around my throat and I clawed at it, dropping the tray. I’m vaguely aware of the loud clattering and the shatter of ceramic as I’m pulled away from the window. I gasp for air and I feel lightheaded. I stomped my foot on the toes of my assailant and ram my elbow into his ribs.

He doesn’t let go, but his grip loosens enough for me to slip the rope and race from the room, grabbing a bread knife and my phone, locking myself in the downstairs bathroom and dialed the emergency line.

Fuck! Damn it! It’s not even been ten minutes since Thorin left. It would not be hard for Dad to turn the car around and come back.

“ _Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency_?”

“Someone is trying to kill me in my house,” I whispered into the receiver.

“ _Sir, find a secure room and lock yourself in there. What’s your address_?” I give it to them and check that the lock is working. Thank god, it is. “ _An officer is on the way_ ,” the woman on the other end says. My stomach is roiling. I set the phone down and drop the knife before leaning over the toilet and spewing.

I reach for the phone again wiping my mouth. Whoever is out there bangs on the door and struggles with the handle. I seize the phone and the knife.

“ _Sir_?”

“I’m here,” I whispered. “But I need to call my partner—”

“ _Sir, you need to stay on the phone_.”

Footsteps faded out of the hall. If I’m getting out of here before things get worse, it has to be now. Once certain that he’s gone or in another room, I sneak out of the bathroom and head for the front door and to the black sedan. I smack the window and shout but nothing happens. I try the door.

From the vomit drenching them and the smell, I can only guess they’ve been poisoned.

They’re dead.

Fuck! They’re dead! How long have they been dead?!

Oh fuck.

This can’t be happening.

 _Okay, Bilbo, you need to calm down,_ I tell myself.

“I got out of the house,” I told the woman as I close the door and hide behind the car near the trunk, crouched in front of the back tire.

“ _Can you get to a neighbor_?”

There’s no one here I can trust let alone know. And likely there’s no one here to help me. Even if there’s a place I can go, they likely won’t help me. Strange man with a knife? No. Not likely. “No,” I said. “I’m hiding behind a black sedan—”

“Bilbo?”

I bit my lip. Of course it’d be Sméagol. Why wouldn’t it be? It couldn’t be any random serial killer or something?! Where are the cops?! Where the fuck are they?!

“Bilbo? Precious, it’s okay. Come with me and I promise not to hurt you again. I’m sorry, precious…” He talks some more, but I take the chance to try and sneak into the car. It’s stupid, but I need a better weapon than a fucking bread knife.

It’s gross and it smells, but I get a gun and duck, trying not to breathe in the smell of decaying cops. The window smashes inwards and I panic, aiming the gun and pulled the trigger. I fall back in the seat and my ears are ringing. I straighten, still holding the gun and climb out of the car. Sméagol lay on the ground. Blood pooled over him, a trickle of it escaping the corner of his mouth, staring blankly up at me.

I thought I shot his shoulder. Not his heart, but it’s close enough to the center of his chest that I’m certain it’s his heart. I fall to the ground, releasing the gun. It clattered against the cement and I lost feeling in my legs. I turned away from the body and threw up again. At last, I hear the call of sirens.

Two cops. One checked the house while the other came over to me. He spoke, gripping my shoulder, asking me what happened. The other cop returned and another car pulled up. Dori and Ori stepped out. Dori handed his wallet to Ori and ran over, holding up his badge. He helped me up and led me away from the curb.

“Bilbo,” he said, “Bilbo.” He snapped his fingers in front of me. “You’re okay, remember that: you’re okay. Forensics and the coroner will be here soon. You need to tell them what happened.”

“Is it bad?”

“Three people are dead. Bad doesn’t begin to describe it. Where is Thorin?”

“He’s only an hour or so out—heading on a retreat with his new church.” Dori nodded and Ori approached. Dori instructed him to call Thorin and get him back. Dori pulled a handkerchief out and wiped my mouth before removing his coat and putting it around me.

“Concentrate, Bilbo,” he said. “You’ll need to get the story as straight as you possibly can.”

“You know I wouldn’t kill anyone unless—”

“I know it was self-defense,” Dori said. “I’m not the one you need to convince. I’ll be here with you. Okay?” he smiled. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

My eyes prick and a whine escaped my throat. I lowered my head and wept. Ori sat beside me. Dori sat on my other side as I cried. Two vans drove up a few minutes later. A man approached us and tested my hands for gun powder residue. Which is silly. I did use the gun when I shot Sméagol, but I comply anyway. Another cop approached with a notepad.

Dori helped me up and kept me standing even though I feel far too weak for standing. I began with Thorin’s departure, the bad feeling, the rope around my neck, locking myself in the bathroom, deciding to make a run for it, getting the gun…

An ambulance joined the throng, corroborating my claim that I was choked due to a lingering rope burn curled around my throat. Another few minutes pass and I can hear Thorin shouting to be let through. They don’t let him in and his cries become more desperate. Forensics assures me they’re finished with me, so Dori and I go over to him and Dad.

Dad is ashen and Thorin’s expression is like thunder.

“Are you all right?” he asked. I swallow.

“Define all right. I’m alive. But I…I…” I lowered my gaze to my hands. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I could’ve shot him anywhere else. I just pointed it and…”

Thorin hushed me, holding my head in his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. “You weren’t trying to kill him. He attacked you. You are blameless, okay? You did nothing wrong.” I shut my eyes and covered my mouth, feeling sick again. Dori rubbed my back.

“When we’re done here, we’ll be heading to a hotel. He needs to be available for further questioning, but beyond that, we’re mostly done here.”

“Good,” Thorin said. “Very good.”

“What bothers me is that safety on a gun is supposed to be on,” Dori said. “Why wasn’t it?”

I looked between him and Thorin. There’s a small glint in his eyes. “That would be something about the cop, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded. “Either way, it was lucky. Luckier if Sméagol was alive,” Dori said. “But yeah. It would say something about the cop.”

“I don’t really believe in luck,” Thorin said.

I shake my head. It had to be luck.

It had to be.

A cop offers to drive me to a hotel and Thorin insists on going with us. I insist on it, too. I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to sleep.

The drive to the hotel is silent and I realize…I’m likely screwed. The media’s likely going to paint this out as some homophobic attack at the very least and those who do try to get it right might not get all the facts right. And that’s considering the media even cares. I really hope they don’t. I just want this to be over and to be left alone.

Once at the hotel, Thorin and I are given a room and I go to take a shower while Thorin mumbles about food. I don’t know if I can ever be free of this guilt.

Yes. I feel guilty. I didn’t mean to kill him and I killed him anyway. Did I _really_ need to kill him? There had to have been another choice. Right? There had to be—

“Bilbo?” Thorin called on the other side of the door. “I ordered some soup. It should be light enough for your stomach. That okay?”

“Yes,” I answered, hoping the hotter the water the more likely it could wash the blood off me.

“Bilbo? No one is going to hold you responsible for what happened today. I love you, Bilbo.” I bite my lip and begin to weep again. I don’t think I can forgive myself. But turning off the scalding water is a good start, I suppose.


	27. Chapter 27

Falling into a routine is _not_ what I expected to do, but knowing what happens each day helps as the investigation drags on. Of course, nothing’s perfect. I’ve not had a decent night’s sleep (which means _Thorin_ hasn’t had a good night’s sleep either) since _it_ happened.

I lie awake at night, too scared to close my eyes because if I close them, I see Sméagol again, and the blood. I feel the weight of the gun in my hand, I hear the loud, low but sharp _pow_ of the bullet leaving the barrel and I jolt awake, sucking in air.

Thorin pulls me into his arms and just holds me as I try to gather my wits (what’s left of them). There’s been at least half a dozen incidents over the last two weeks where I gave up sleeping all together in favor of writing for my blog or grading homework assignments.

In public, I seem fine to most. I still go to work, I still cook at times (though not as much as it left me with more time to think than honestly would like at the moment). I still do what I usually do. I expect no one really knows how to act.

I killed someone, so for the most part, I’m given cautious glances and also pitying ones. I killed someone in self-defense, so I’m not ostracized or treated horribly, but I’m still trapped in some sort of bubble that people tend to avoid entering, except for my friends.

And there’s the trial. Did I need to shoot him? Why did I shoot him if I didn’t need to? Why didn’t I go to a neighbor once I escaped?

I swear the DA is just trying to build a case against me. I don’t know why. He doesn’t know me. And it does go on to say that I shot Sméagol in self-defense. He broke into my house and choked me with a rope. He had a history of violence and mental instability. He was obsessed with me.

And Thorin? He continuously glares at the DA as if they were doing this to spite me rather than doing their job. I’ve seen him angry before and I thought the anger he had when he thought I might be unfaithful with Beorn was bad.

It’s a short trial and, given my history with Sméagol, having been a part of what sent him to prison over ten years prior, I’m (miraculously, I feel), cleared.

Being back home is both a relief and almost a curse.

Dad stays in the guest room most days, since mom hasn’t been able to come visit. He and I have been working in the back yard together, turning it into a garden and a bit of a safe haven.

True, we won’t be able to plant anything as it’s getting colder, but we can figure out where to put what plant, herb, or vegetable.

He mumbles to himself mostly. “Maybe you should come to church again,” he said.

I looked at him and shake my head.

“I like that it’s…changed, Dad, but I’m not ready to come back.” I licked my lips. “Um…I’ll be there for the Christmas thing, though.”

He nodded and returned to fencing off the vegetables from the flowers.

#

Thorin’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as I moved closer to him and sighed contentedly. “I love you,” he reminded me. I hummed and repeated the sentiment, kissing him.

“Will the guilt ever leave?” I asked, laying my head down on his chest.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But you’re a strong man, Bilbo. And you will prevail. I know you will.”

I sit up and smile at him. “You’re sweet, but that doesn’t help how I feel about this. I’ve been told that I…I might not have had a choice, but that doesn’t mean I feel less horrid. I know what he did and I know I might have done the only that could possibly have saved me. But I took his life and I don’t know how to forgive myself.”

Thorin cupped my cheek. “ _I_ forgive you. And I’d probably have done the same thing, whether for myself or for you, I would not go down not fighting if I had. To add, you said you didn’t mean to shoot his heart, I believe you. I _know_ you and there is not a murderous bone in your body. I don’t know if the guilt will ever go away, Bilbo, but I know you’ll learn to forgive yourself, one day. And I will be there the whole way, okay? I’ll be here.”

I laid my head back down, letting Thorin sleep, though I couldn’t. I listen to the beat of his heart, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and soaked up his warmth. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, trying to remind myself that he meant to kill me. He meant to hurt me.

I get up and while I know I woke Thorin doing so, he remained silent and let me slip to my office.

#

_The ground is covered in blood, spreading out under him like wings._

_“You killed him.” I didn’t mean to. “Murderer…” It was an accident. “Killer…”_

_I swear it wasn’t on purpose._

_I’m surrounded by a bright, white light and I can’t see—_

_“Take my hand.”_

I jolted up, gasping. My heart raced and I tried to breathe as I calmed down.

“Bilbo?”

I looked up at Thorin.

“The doctor Dori recommended is here to see you, since you apparently weren’t going to see him.” He doesn’t look impressed.

“I don’t want to relive it.”

“You’ve not slept well in over a month. I think it’s time to try talking to the therapist since talking to me about it hasn’t helped much.”

“But—”

“ _Go_ talk to him,” Thorin said with such authority, I decided for my best to listen before I risked further wrath. I left the computer, ignoring the random letters left by my face. I want to take care of it now and maybe see if I can save my keyboard, but it’ll have to wait.

#

_How does anyone learn to live with themselves?_

_Honestly, I’m not the one to ask. I learned to accept my sexuality and even embraced it. For that, I was treated like an outcast. I had my friends to turn to in my darkest times before, but now I’m living in the darkest time of my life and I don’t know if they’ll understand._

_How does anyone learn to live with themselves when they take a life?_

_You can’t erase it. You can’t ignore it. You just…live with it and try to act normal. I don’t understand it. How does anyone justify—_

_Sexism —_

_Racism —_

_Homophobia —_

**_ Reckless Hate _ **

_I don’t pretend to justify what I did to Sméagol that day, even though he had done much worse to me when he killed Deagol, when he stalked me, kidnapped me…_

_He tried to kill me._

_I don’t understand how I’m just expected to forgive myself, pick my life up off the floor, and go on living as I had before. I can’t do that. I still have Thorin, yeah. And I have my friends’ and family._

_But I’ve never felt more alone._

“I think the key is that this man had hurt you,” my therapist told me. “You have to remember that. He haunted you for a while, right? You _have_ to find a way to forgive yourself, and maybe even forgive him for what he did. Otherwise, even in death, he will still have power over you.”

_“Forgive them, Father, for they do not know what they do.”_

“Do you like the Bible?”

“I don’t,” I said. “I was raised Christian, and what you said reminded me of that verse.”

“Why that verse? What about it speaks to you?”

I look at him, blinking and with a thousand answers on the tip of my tongue. “I don’t know.”

#

_Go tell it on the mountain. Over the hills and ev’rywheeeere!_

I don’t sing along, staring in blank space. Thorin’s hand is the only thing seemingly keeping me grounded. After the play, Thorin wrapped his arm around my shoulder and we waited for the church to file out before going over to Dad’s and helping him cook while rewatching _The Wizard of Oz._

“What have you done?!” the Witch shrieked. I winced and Thorin stroked my hair. “I’m _melting! Melting!_ ” She curled into herself till all that was left was her hat and what remained of her broom.

“Hail Dorothy! The Wicked Witch is dead!”

I wonder if Dorothy ever wondered if killing the witch had been wise, accident or not. She probably never thought on it again, passing it off as a dream.

Lucky her.

I don’t get that luxury, though there are certainly days where I’ve…somehow…thought of it as nothing more than a dream. A nightmare long gone. And those are the days I feel most like myself again.

“Dinner’s ready,” Dad announced. Thorin went to help him finish setting the table and pass around the port. I leaned forward, massaging my neck. Drogo got to his feet and seized my hand. “I’m sitting between you and Thorin so there’s no kissy faces.”

“Oh, really?”

“Someone’s got to.”

“Yeah, well you forget kid: you don’t actually need to be kissing to make kissy faces.”

“Bilbo! Drogo!” Dad snapped. I pushed the teenager over to the table and sit him on my left while Thorin sat on my right, kissing my cheek.

“See: that is what I wanted to prevent.”

“You’re not quite tall enough for that,” Thorin said. Drogo rolled his eyes, muttered _whatever_ , and sat still while Dad prayed.

“You’re friends are getting married, soon, yeah?”

I nodded my response since my mouth was full of ham. “In April or May,” I said once I could speak again. “And about fu-dging time too.”

“We already know you swear like a sailor, Bilbo,” Dad said around his glass.

“There are impressionable ears, though,” I mumbled.

“Not really,” Drogo said, earning a slap atop the head from his mother. “Ow. _Mom!_ ” Thorin squeezed my hand and I smiled at him. I kiss his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Love.”

“Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yes, there's going to be a wedding part, but it won't be in here...I wanted it to, but it didn't fit. It'll definitely be WAY more lighthearted, though. Stay tuned!!!!
> 
> And thanks for reading this far!


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